


Scales of Revenge

by itakethewords (BluntBetty)



Category: Dragon's Bait - Vivian Vande Velde, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accusations of Witchcraft, Assault, Bad Guy Yakov, Brief mentions of assault, Budding Romance, Corruption, Death, Dragon AU, Dragon's Bait AU, Dragons, False Identity, M/M, Orphan Yuuri, Priests, Regret, Religion, Revenge, Theft, Witch Mila, Witchcraft, bigbangonice2018, character death in case you didn't see the warning, dragon Viktor, fey, framing someone for a crime, period au, planting evidence, religious ceremony, witch trial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 22:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13622475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluntBetty/pseuds/itakethewords
Summary: Yuuri has a date with a dragon.Sole survivor of his family after sickness sweeps through his village, Yuuri finds himself alone as townspeople recruit a famous priest to hold him on trial for crimes of witchcraft. It’s but mere moments of dizzying horror before he finds himself tied to a post and left as dragon’s bait for what he is told is a small dragon terrorizing the nearby hills.It is not a small dragon.But instead of eating him, the dragon who calls himself Viktor strikes a deal with Yuuri. A deal of revenge. Adrenaline running high, Yuuri is eager to accept and he quickly learns what the price of revenge really is.





	Scales of Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This is the Big Bang!!! on ICE fic I've been going on about since August! You guys will love it! Promise!
> 
> I worked with Silent Songs on this fic and they've created some amazing art for the story. You'll see it in the story itself as well as a link posted at the end to see it on their tumblr. Make sure to head over there and let them know how much you love their hard work!
> 
> Many thanks to hifftn and caeseria and noon30ish who were basically my betas and cheerleaders lol.
> 
> A quick note, this story is a Dragon's Bait AU. Dragon's Bait is a novel by Vivian Vande Velde and has been a favorite of mine for more than 10 years. There's a lot of similarities but then it also wildly veers off course from the novel because of our boys here.
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know what you thought! And don't forget to look for new stories for the Big Bang!!! on ICE from now until February 25!

The day Yuuri was accused of dealing in magic started out like any other.

He woke to a grey dawn, silence already screaming in his ears. The silence from living alone, being alone after his family left him. As he crawled out of bed, he could still hear the echoes of coughs in the modest home. Coughs that he’d been so sure sounded just a little better most days, but turned out to be the opposite. But now, Yuuri managed the meager services their little inn could once do on his own, despite his inexperience in them; mending, washing, cooking. Not that there were visitors in Hasetsu, the little village a stone's throw from the sea was sleepy at best and most visitors stumbled their way because of storms or were just traveling through. If it wasn’t for the kindness of some fellow villagers such as Yuuko and her husband, Takeshi the blacksmith, who left bread and any food they could spare from their own mouths and those of their triplet daughters, or Minako the widow who owned the tavern who left him spare clothes she found she couldn’t sell or had extra material for. They knew Yuuri wouldn’t dare touch more rations than necessary from the larder for potential visitors nor would he spare a copper on clothes when the ones he owned and frequently wore still hung on his body enough to cover his modesty. Yuuri only ate the food on the brink of rotting and his clothes until the holes were beyond repair.

Of course, this hadn’t been Yuuri’s lot in life, according to plans. The running of Yutopia Inn was supposed to continue in his parents’ hands for at least another ten years before they handed it off to their eldest child, his sister Mari. Unfortunately, she had gone between his mother and his father, overworked body catching the sickness quickly from their parents and passing in the night to the surprise of everyone in the village. She had been young, strong. She had hid her symptoms well and it wasn’t until that night that Yuuri had raised a brow at the wracking cough she sputtered out as she scrubbed down sheets. She’d kept quiet the last month or so after the death of their mother, Hiroko. Normally brash and loud, nothing like the more demure women of Hasetsu, she’d clammed up quickly in those weeks. She had ignored his look in favor for continuing her chores and went to bed a little early, asking him to lock up for her before he retired as well. When he woke the next morning, he could hear his father’s sobs and knew.

It took three more weeks for his father to pass, collapsed in front of the inn talking in harsh tones to their neighbor who was known for wanting to purchase their land to expand his business of tailoring and trinkets. The argument was an old one, the man named Yakumo had lobbied for almost two years now with offers of buying them out; both the land and the building for what he considered a fair price. He was newer to Hasetsu, only having lived in the village going on six years. Despite being told the history, he didn’t care that Yutopia’s land and the inn had been in the Katsuki family for over thirty-seven years, it was going into its fourth generation and Hiroko and Toshiya refused to budge. Yakumo swore at his father, wagging a finger and stomped away and it was Toshiya’s hunched form and the sound of gurgling that had Yuuri in the yard, catching his father as he collapsed and choked on his own blood and died in pain.

Now, five weeks into the depths of winter, Yuuri was alone, haphazardly mending his trousers, until he suddenly wasn’t. The knock on the door was less of a knock and more of a demanding beating upon the wood, startling Yuuri and causing him to stab his finger with the sharp sewing needle he had been struggling with. When he stood and opened the door, the visitor didn’t wait a beat before thrusting themselves into the inn, eyes hungrily cataloging the property.

“Are you looking for a room, sir?” Yuuri asked quietly as he nursed his bloodied finger. The man, an imposing figure in a black cloak, finally turned and eyed Yuuri, taking in his bespectacled form, one hand cradling the other covered in red blood and clothes that were barely better than what his station called him--orphan.

“You are Yuuri Katsuki?” the man asked. His face was hard, weathered from the years, stature short but intimidating, unmovable. His voice held an accent that Yuuri couldn’t discern, only able to acknowledge that he’d heard it once before as a child when visitors were more common to the inn and Hasetsu in general.

“I--yes? Who are you? Did you come for a r-room?” Frowning at his stuttering, Yuuri shuddered at the sense of dread that began overtaking his body. His intuition screamed at him that nothing good would come from this stranger in his fine cloak and the winking jewels that peaked from the edges as he paced about.

The man snorted, eyeing the worn common room in mild disgust. “I am not here for a room, boy. I am Inquisition Yakov Feltsman of Petersburg. I have been brought here because you have been accused of witchcraft and magicks of the devil. It is my job to prove it.” Feltsman smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes and instead, seemed to stretch his aged skin in what constituted as more a feral look of a predator Yuuri’s mind supplied him with. “Or disprove it, as the evidence may show us.”

From the corner of his eye, Yuuri saw movement and could see Yakumo and his wife, Emi, and their son Kiyoharu standing in the doorway. All three faces were painted with barely contained excitement and hunger in their eyes.

“Wait! Witchcraft?! Magic!? That can’t be! I don’t know magic!” Yuuri’s throat caught, his voice choked. “I… I’ve never…”

“Enough,” said Inquisitor Feltsman. “You will come with me.” He reached out to take Yuuri’s upper arm, his strength pulling him forward towards the door.

“Wait! Please! I’m not a witch or anything of the sort!”

Yuuri knew he was innocent, he’d never dabbled in magicks or even considered becoming a witch or warlock of any kind that the passing priests and missionaries preached about. It would be easy to be acquitted of any wrongdoing as he hadn’t actually _done_ anything. But the bruising grip dragging him made doubt linger and tell him otherwise.

“You _will_ come with me,” Feltsman hissed, fingers digging painfully into his skin and the little meat he had left of his slight frame. Yuuri had no choice but to let the older man drag him from the doors of the inn and down the street. In the midst of his panic, Yuuri could see blurred images of his neighbors, the others of the village standing nearby, whispering amongst each other and greedily taking in the scandalous scene.

“What’s happening?”

“Yuuri...magic… Witch!”

“Yuuri’s a witch?”

“Oh my…”

Eyes blurred with tears, he couldn’t make out who said what, but the hissing of gossip filled his ears as he allowed himself to be dragged next door to Yakumo’s business and home. Bolts of fabrics, spools of thread and half carded wool undyed were stacked across the room, boxes of buttons and shelves of hair accessories and trinkets littered his vision as he was put next to the fire. As if to intimidate him, but Yuuri refused to shirk away. Yakumo’s family piled in along with what seemed to be half the town, creating a half circle in front of Yuuri as they set up an impromptu trial on his innocence.

Inquisitor Feltsman stripped himself of his traveling cloak, draping it across a rocking chair before swiftly turning to Yuuri’s direction and began throwing barbed words his way. “Let us begin. Who has proof against Yuuri Katsuki in the case of witchcraft and devil magicks?”

It was Emi who stepped forward first. Of course. “I saw him! One day I saw him in the street, walking past the home of the widow Aya and looking suspicious. He must not of saw me because I was weeding my garden, but I saw him right in plain daylight with a sour face spit toward her home and make signals with his hands. Devil signals! The next day, her chickens vanished and her goat stopped giving milk!”

The crowd murmured amongst themselves again, louder than before as they realized why they were here and just what acts would be thrown out against him.

“Wait! I never--”

“You will be silent!” Feltsman roared at him, taking a menacing step forward.

“No, I won’t! What she says isn’t true at all!” Yuuri took a step forward, closer to Emi who threw her arms in the air as if defending herself from blows.

“P-please don’t hex me!”

Yuuri looked at her, flabbergasted. “I would nev-”

Feltsman grabbed him by the arm, uncaring of how he hurt Yuuri and dragged him back to stand by the fireplace. “You will mind your tongue and stay put. I will not have you attacking victims!” He seemed to think for a moment. “Someone bring a length of rope, we must bind him from hurting others!”

Yuuri could feel the hollow breaths he took, the wheezing that reminded him of his family on good days, where they almost had strength to do daily ablutions and sit up most of the day. They were rough handling him as they bound his arms behind his back and it wasn’t until it was secure that Feltsman continued with the trial and parade of witnesses.

First, widow Aya spoke up in defense, but was quickly silenced, barely able to get a word out beyond the single word confirmations that technically were truths. Yes, her chickens had disappeared. But there had been bloody feathers left behind and pawprints from the wolves in the nearby woods that sat south of town and cut them off from most villages. She hadn’t been the first to lose some animals to the wildlife. And her goat, it had indeed dried up then, but then again, the goat was nearly as old as she, having been a staple elder in the village longer than Yuuri had been alive. Yuuri loved the old woman as though a great aunt and, even if he was a witch of any sort, he’d never do anything to harm her.

“One night, several weeks ago, I was walking home from the Souma home,” Yakumo spoke up, face solemn. “I happened to be working late on outfits for their winter wardrobe and happened to walk past the meadow with the small pond. The one that we all avoid for fear of falling into the ice. Anyway, I remember thinking to myself, ‘Why is Katsuki out here, it’s nearly midnight and it’s so dark!’ but I let curiosity get the best of me and as I watched, I saw him go to the pond and walk on it! Walk on it as if he were god himself and he began dancing, twirling and moving as though summoning incubi and succubi for himself to seduce and to send them forth to seduce each and every one of us!”

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open. The man was describing as he skated on ice with the blades that Takeshi and Yuuko had gifted him that summer. They loved playing in the meadow as children and the few times they’d dared go to the pond, they’d slipped and slid around with joyous laughter. As they got older and Takeshi learned the trade of metals, he tried making various tools for them to try out on ice to be able to move smoother. Yuuri had agreed to test them the first chance the pond had a thick enough layer of ice. The night Yakumo described had been the final test before he showed his friends the results of Takeshi’s hard work and ingenuity.

It had felt so _right_ to move on the ice in the iron blades. His body moved as though there was music and it had been so easy to glide. It was _fun_ to move as though it were a complex dance. Did the fun mean it had been magic?

There was a gasp in the crowd as Yakumo told his tale, and that was exactly what is was. A tale.

People tried to speak up on behalf of Yuuri, to defend him, to inject common sense and logic to every instance Yakumo’s family had against Yuuri, but they were quickly shut down and out. Intimidated, bullied or forced out of the shop. Yuuko had been slapped by Inquisitor Feltsman for being an unruly woman and mouthy and Takeshi had been restrained at the violence against his wife, both led out and locked into their home with the sleeping triplets as the trial progressed.

Kiyoharu had a tale for the villages and inquisitor. His smirk showed no teeth, an unnaturally happy stretch of lips on an otherwise narrow face. He told of how Yuuri would try to seduce him, bumping into him at the village market some mornings. Other times standing outside his bedroom window and dancing nude in moonlight to lure him down and surely eat his soul. And the one time Kiyoharu had been enthralled enough to ask to court and marry him, he’d been thrown to the side as yesterday’s refuse. He swore he could hear Yuuri laughing with spirits and fey since then at his expense.

The only grain of truth to the tailor’s son had been that he’d asked Yuuri the chance to court him and the intent to marry and Yuuri, in his lack of tact and fear and bewilderment, had shrieked out a ‘no thank you’ and ran back inside the inn, avoiding the younger boy for almost a week.

And it was a point that made Yuuri bizarre in Hasetsu. Not that he had no preference to men or women, but rather that he was newly twenty-four and was not married with the prospect of children of any form. Kiyoharu was the first in nearly a year to try and gain any kind of relationship with him and even if he and his family hadn’t been cruel and bullying toward them over the last two years, Yuuri still would have said no to him.

The entire time Yakumo’s family told lies, built an empire of stories woven of fabrications like the cloth they sold, Inquisitor Feltsman just smiled. He didn’t seem to be the laughing sort. No, he was made of cold smiles and words made of sharp ice and glass. Smiles that grew with each passing falsehood that passed the lips of the family and the villagers alike who were being swept up in the drama of a possible witch found in their humble village. No one bothered to ask him anymore if he’d done those things. They instead built a throne for Feltsman to sit upon as he guided those who willingly hopped onto the witchcraft wagon and strong-armed Yuuri’s supporters out of the shop and into a crowd just outside in the street.

“But I’m innocent!” Yuuri cried out after one teen cried false tears of demons at her bedside.

Inquisitor Feltsman only smiled thinly. “No one is innocent. You came into this world wailing and full of sin and it is my duty to expel you and the sin you represent from this world.”

“Do we burn him now? Or will we drown him?”

Emi’s voice was near gleeful and it took a firm hand from her husband to silence her eagerness. It was so obvious the reason why this was happening and Yuuri’s stomach churned at the thought of fire licking at his skin and his throat parched from screaming in pain.

“No, no, no.” Feltsman shook his head, a sly smile still firmly rooted on his aged face. “We can solve two problems at once with him. There has been a dragon seen in the area. It has been terrorizing Petersburg and nearby cities, it happens to be heading this way. Many dragons can be appeased with maidens and virgins alike and if we offer Yuuri Katsuki, then we can send the dragon on his way, satisfied. It’s a rather small one, so it must be young.”

Yuuri’s face paled. “A dragon?”

“A small one,” Feltsman smiled sweetly, as if repeating himself was a favor.

Yuuri made no move to run, no move to fight. He remained silent as two men grabbed him roughly. He lost his voice and couldn’t speak to the victorious expressions of Yakumo and his family; they essentially now owned Yutopia’s property by default thanks to the single, small loan of ten gold coins his father had borrowed last spring and had half saved up before he died. He did hear the whispers of those who had sided with the tailor, they thought him cold, made of ice for not weeping, begging for his life. They thought him guilty, incapable of emotions because he’d already sold his soul to the devil.

Rather, Yuuri had run out of tears for himself, having spent them on his family. The reality that he was about to be left as dragon’s bait at the top of a hill thanks to petty greed was like a dream, a nightmare that didn’t seem possible. This was a dream and he had to wake up. But the pinch and manhandling of the men taking him to the cart where they kept him tied up and journeyed to the hill, it was painful and so very real.

From the peak hole near the front of the cart where the canvas was open, he could see Feltsman watching him with a smile.

 

It was almost like a parade. This lineup of people following the cart that carried Yuuri carried torches and was lead by Feltsman, who hadn’t donned his cloak back on. In the light of the setting sun, Yuuri could see the gold and jewels the man wore in greater capacity and it was a far cry different from the priests of the past who visited Hasetsu. Most had crucifixes that were carved of simple wood or made of plain iron. But Inquisitor Feltsman had an ornate crucifix made of gold, inlaid with rubies and diamonds. He wore similar jewels on his thick fingers and the decorative embroidery of his tunic seemed to be made of pure spun gold.

When they reached the top of the hill, Yuuri could only watch as the man directed several carpenters and soldiers to erect a large wooden stake into the ground, a pole anchored several feet into the ground to which they would tie him to. Others laid path markers of torches to make it easier for the dragon to find him. As if a fey creature would have a hard time scenting his next meal… Or whatever it was they did was offerings and sacrifices. Of course, Feltsman would forget no detail to make his trip to Hasetsu in vain. Several younger men who Yuuri had grown up with tied him to the post once it was ready, looping the existing rope with a second.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t use iron shackles?” Yakumo asked, overseeing the progress.

Feltsman shook his head and smiled as if teaching a small child. “No, fey have an aversion to iron. If we use that, it will never come to him. Rope will do, the dragon is nearby.” He turned to Yuuri as the villagers backed away, jobs complete. “Do not, therefore, let sin rule your mortal body and make you obey its lusts. No more shall you offer your body to sin as a weapon of evil. Rather, offer yourself to God as a weapon for justice. Then sin will no longer have power over you.”

Yuuri nearly rolled his eyes. It was an affront that they were tying him up and accusing him of witchcraft. That they’d twist the words of specific religious scriptures as well was downright insulting. He couldn’t resist the urge to spit at him and all he received was an indulgent smile and narrowed eyes.

“Repent, and save your immortal soul,” he intoned, voice deep, eyes hard.

Ignoring the man, Yuuri looked around to where they’d brought him and gasped. Just to the north he could see the meadow with the pond where he’d successfully skated on blades made of iron in the distance. His eyes misted slightly at the memories he had of the tall grasses and wildflowers with his friends but he quickly shook it off. It would do him no good and he wouldn’t show these people any weakness. They didn’t deserve his tears, his emotion.

It began to rain. Fat drops, icy cold despite the winter air. They soaked each person as they looked upon him and he felt a certain amount of satisfaction seeing Feltsman and his glittering artifice begin to soak slick with rainwater. The villagers, after hearing one last prayer for Yuuri’s soul from the inquisitor, began to trek back down the hillside chattering amongst themselves. With one last smile, Inquisitor Feltsman lead Yakumo, Emi, and Kiyoharu down with the others. When he couldn’t see their backs or hear voices any longer, Yuuri took in his surroundings. The ground under him was turning to soft mud and the torches left behind and beacons were already going out, smoking and hissing from being put out by nature.

It was then that Yuuri finally summoned tears for himself.

 

Legs stiff, Yuuri crouched, butt in the mud and arms aching from waiting. He’d been here most of the afternoon and all evening. The moon was starting to rise. Where was this _small_ dragon? Wasn’t it expecting a virgin on the hillside? Did it see him and decide he’d rather not because it was _Yuuri_? Despite the claims of summoning sexual demons, Yuuri never had laid with anyone, man, woman, or creature. They had to have known this if they were offering him to the missing dragon. But. There were indeed marks in the late winter grounds that showed a dragon had been here at some point. Claw marks several feet long, nearly two feet deep into the dirt, upended shrubbery and downed trees near the woodline. The lack of winter birdsong and chittering of creatures. They were common enough signs of fey, but where the hell was this dragon? It was basically late to its own dinner!

And that brought the thought that, if all the dragon was going to do to him was eat him, what did it matter if they had virgins? Was there a difference in taste? Was it like biting into a rotten apple if they ate someone who had had children or lain with many lovers? There were eyewitness accounts of dragons gobbling up soldiers and anyone else who attacked them, so surely it made no difference. Then again, if those witnesses were as reliable as those in his village, how true were the stories?

As if by instinct, his arm twitched to reach out and scratch an itch he had on his throat, but it was thwarted by the ropes. However, when he tugged in frustration, Yuuri felt the slack give in the original ropes from the trial. Thinking back, he remembered the woodcutter’s son doing the tying. The boy was helplessly useless at most tasks and the fact they let him tie Yuuri up must have been an oversight in their eagerness to see Yuuri’s life ended so dramatically. Wiggling his wrists, he made his hands as small as possible and was able to twist it free, albeit painfully and with resulting ropeburn. After a moment of freeing his left hand, Yuuri stood less than gracefully and hissed as his arms took on the feeling of pins and needles. The reddened skin was irritated by the rough ropes and it was all he could do to stand and walk the ache from his abused limbs.

 

 

He was free, but what would he do now? Could Yuuri even stomach the idea of going back to Hasetsu? All they would do is tie him back up, better, and cart him right back to the hill and not bother with the dragon, throwing torches and kindling at him to rid themselves of their problem. And even if they didn’t, if Feltsman was gone, how could he live with these people who so eagerly threw his life away? Shaking his head at the thought, Yuuri firmly tossed that idea aside. He could never live in Hasetsu again. Going to another village was an option, but he had nothing to offer. He had no possessions, no outstanding skill. He was well past the age of beginning an apprenticeship and had never shown an affinity for one trade or the next. He hadn’t even been very good at working at the inn, to be quite frank. No one would take on a grown man with no discernible skill to make money, let alone one that came with empty hands and pockets.

Stepping a few feet from the growing mud puddle by the stake, Yuuri inelegantly sat himself in a patch of brittle grass, defeated by his own situation. He was free from ropes and the stake, but what good was freedom when he had no path before him?

And that was when the dragon came.

 

* * *

 

If there was more evidence that Inquisitor Feltsman was a liar, it was that he said the dragon had been _small_. The man had emphasised it several times, but if this was a small dragon, Yuuri didn’t want to think of what a large dragon looked like. Yuuri only hoped that the still smoking and lightly ember-lit torches hadn’t been noticed by the flying fey yet. But thanks in part to the light of the full moon and rain that had turned instead to a misting drizzle, he could see the shape of the creature against the velvet sky, enormous with wings that stretched impossibly long. A single beat took it halfway across the sky and the wind that it rode made it’s mane flutter like a battle flag. The mane was like moonlight in hair form, pale and impossibly long like trailing moonbeams. It didn’t look like the dragon had actually seen him and, if Yuuri stayed still for just a few more minutes, he would be free. But again, what was freedom?

And because he hadn’t eaten since the morning before last, rations low once again, his body aching from exertion and the adrenaline gone from his veins, Yuuri’s temper snapped and he did what could have been the stupidest thing in his life.

“HEY YOU STUPID DRAGON! COME GET ME!”

“COME EAT ME, YOU STUPID DRAGON!”

Muscles still stiff from a combination of the weather and being tied up, it was hard for Yuuri to get any distance at first. The rocks he threw landed laughably close and barely went fifteen feet in the air. After a few tries, one gathered enough to arch but still was pitifully far from the dragon. However, whether it was the rocks, his wild arm movements, or his shouts of insults and taunts, the dragon wheeled around, gliding on air as it made its way to land near him, the ground absorbing the impact of the larger creature. Bracing himself for what he thought was inevitable, Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

When nothing happened and the feeling that he looked incredibly stupid became too much to bear, he peaked his eyes open only to see a scaled leg before his eyes. He hadn’t expected the dragon to be so large, he only came up just past the knee and it was a daunting thought. As Yuuri tipped his head back, he took in the large form of muscles and scales. The dragon’s hide looked nearly as pale as the mane that he’d seen while he flew, a milky silver the rippled with a slight turquoise and magenta hue as the flesh and muscles moved and the light played upon it.  With his head nearly tipped all the way back, Yuuri could finally see the head of the dragon, shadowed eyes watching him.

“Well, kill me already,” he whispered, eyes defiant.

He still couldn’t see the dragon’s face for a reaction, but he did notice how it smelled not of fire or death, but rather spring rain and meadow grass. The traveling entertainers and all the knights that had come through clearly hadn’t known what a real dragon smelled like. This dragon smelled pleasant and slightly spicy, a fresh type of addicting. The more he stared at the dragon’s scales, the more his anger flared. He thought of how he got here and how he was an easy way to appease an apparent rampaging dragon that actually had no interest in rampaging. And how his family had been taken from him by Death and how the villagers deemed themselves worthy of taking everything else away in his life. That his life wasn’t worth the little space and resources he had.

So he kicked the dragon.

It hurt his foot. The pain shot up his foot and through his leg and he couldn’t help the curse that slipped between his lips and filled the air. The worst was that it seemed to hurt him more than it did the dragon, as the dragon only cocked its head to watch him stutter and curse.

It occurred to him that the dragon was playing with him.

He would have been better off letting the wolves and the elements have at him if that was the case.

“Were you never told not to play with your meal?” Yuuri admonished, wagging a finger. His voice was filled with half reprimand, half hysterical laughter. And after waiting a heartbeat, he fell back to the grass, trying to hold back sobs as he covered his face with his hands. He hiccuped, choking on air and his own tears, face turning read. Why wouldn’t the dragon just eat him and put him out of his misery? At this point, all he wanted was to see his parents and Mari again.

Strong, soft hands took both of his and pulled them away from his face.

Hands. Not claws.

A man, less than a handful of years older than him at the most, watched him with curiosity, still holding Yuuri’s hands in his on Yuuri’s lap. The dragon was nowhere to be seen.

His stress-addled brain for only a moment wondered if this man had chased off the dragon, defeated him, sent him back to wherever his hoard was. But the timing was way off, it had only been a moment or two at the most since Yuuri’s panic attack had begun and the only answer to this strange man was…

Looking again, he took in the man in front of him. He looked almost completely human if not for a few features. The first that stood out was the pale and pure shade of blue of his eyes. Turquoise like the scales had reflected and like the stones a traveling salesman had once shown them. They reminded him of pure, impossibly deep water. The mane was now ridiculously long hair. Strands that pooled on the ground as he kneeled before Yuuri, they were indeed like fingers of moonlight. Silver that was stretched thin, thinner than the finest jewelry they’d seen in Hasetsu, the dragon-man’s eyebrows were just a touch darker and long eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, allowing Yuuri to take him in. After assessing his features, it was then that he realized the man was completely nude. The most modesty he had was the few parts of his body that his hair curtained and what his crouched form covered. Which was little, making Yuuri turn beet red.

The dragon noticed and the first signs of emotion reflected in his eyes: he was amused at Yuuri’s reaction to his nakedness and did nothing to make him more comfortable.

Inquisitor Feltsman had said the dragon was small… and judging by his human face and body, that meant he was _young_. A young dragon scared them. Heavens could only wonder what they’d do if he’d been a fully grown adult. The thought made him giggle a little on the inside. How long did dragons live for, exactly?

Suddenly feeling a little awkward, Yuuri licked his lips, willing his voice to come through. “I… I didn’t know. You know… That dragons could take on the human form.”

“It isn’t often that young men are flinging rocks at me as I fly by.” His face held amusement but his eyes were guarded. “The last time that happened was actually a knight. But to be fair, I’d eaten the horse and squire. Taken most of his weapons and the like as well.” His voice was husky and held a slight accent. He cocked his head, as if waiting for an answer from Yuuri.

“I… see?” He could barely keep his eyes on him, embarrassed to see him nude and unabashed.

The man only rose a brow, skeptical.

With a sigh, he dropped himself to the ground, elegantly folding himself so that he was more modestly covered by various limbs and a large sweep of his hair. He sighed, leaning an elbow on his knee, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

“Humans. They’re… I always forget…” He paused nodded up at the stake that had been erected suddenly. “That yours?”

Yuuri only nodded, not needing to look up and see what he meant.

“You had time to get away.”

Yuuri looked right into the dragon’s eyes, petulant. “You didn’t see me.”

He barked out a laugh, eyes flashing with something dangerous. “Oh, I saw you. I just didn’t have any interest in you until you started throwing rocks at me and making demands. Quite out of the ordinary for such a virgin sacrifice.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but be a little annoyed at the holier-than-thou attitude the dragon-man had and the stress he had put on virgin. “People tied up on the hillside, tied to a stake is ordinary?”

He flashed a cold grin. “For me it is.”

“Can all dragons turn into humans?” He still wanted to know the answer.

He seemed to appraise Yuuri, as if judging how much he could actually say.

“They can’t. Not all of them. Only ones with certain magical skills in their blood. They have to be born with it.” He still held on to Yuuri’s hands, holding him in place.

“Why…” But he stopped. How much could he trust the dragon’s words? He looked down at their hands.

“‘Why…’” the older man repeated as he reached out and took Yuuri’s chin between his finger and thumb, lifting his face with a little force to meet his eyes.

Yuuri huffed. “Why do dragons ask for maidens?”

The dragon-man released Yuuri’s face and it was then that he realized his hand was shaking. Looking at his form, he could see the man was laughing, his whole body shaking with the effort to keep his laughs quiet.

“What?”

“Dragons don’t _ask_ for maidens. They are _offered_ maidens.”

Yuuri could only shake his head, confused.

The dragon let out a huff of amusement. “Is the king likely to be a maiden? Or his queen for that matter? What about the village head? Their workers? Farmers? It’s always men who make the laws that decree that maidens are the ones to be sacrificed first.”

“That… that has to be a lie,” Yuuri whispered to himself, frowning.

“Maybe. I do lie,” the dragon smiled with teeth that time, eyes glinting coldly.

Yuuri fidgeted with his glasses a moment, thoughtful. “It’s almost like that riddle about lies… How does it go again?”

“NO!” The dragon stood swiftly and Yuuri made sure to kept his eyes locked with his. “Not everything I say is a lie. Just sometimes. And I _hate_ riddles. I once lost to someone who challenged me and I ate him anyway! Why--” He leaned down, hands on his knees to put himself back at eye level with Yuuri. “Didn’t you run away when you had the chance before I could see you?”

Yuuri frowned. “You--” He stopped himself from accusing, “You said you saw me all along!” biting his lip to keep himself from speaking. He felt as though he could read the thoughts in his head just by looking into his eyes.

“Why didn’t you run away?”

“To where?! For what? My family died of the sickness and my village convicted me of being a witch! I’m so cold, I’m hungry, I’ve nowhere to go and I can’t get a bloody dragon to eat me like he’s supposed to!”

The man sat down again. “Well, are you a witch?”

“No!”

“What are you going to do about it?”

He threw his hands up in the air. “Nothing! There’s not much I can do except enjoy the thought of you flying over Hasetsu and burning down their homes and cooking them all to a crisp! Even the babies!”

A pair of silver brows rose.

“Perhaps not the children.” Yuuri let out a breath. He remembered the Nishigori triplets.

The dragon grinned, smile large, and stood. The air filled with a shriek and, jerking his head up, Yuuri could see that he was once more a dragon, wings beating to lift him high into the air.

In the pit of his stomach, Yuuri felt as though he’d failed a test. The dragon was leaving him because he hadn’t answered his questions satisfactory enough and between that and the cruel thoughts he’d had towards his old village, he felt a sense of disappointment and guilt. Trying to protect himself from the gale force winds brought by the large wings, Yuuri raised his arms to protect himself and felt claws grasp him, not to tear him apart, but lifting him as he flew higher and higher. The pain that was present in his limbs from being tied all day came back brutally quick, sockets screaming that they would be torn apart. Opening his eyes, he could see that they were high in the air, the winds beating across his face and whipping his clothes likes sails on a ship.

Though he knew nothing about flying, Yuuri could tell that their journey was rather short. The entire time he expected to be dropped anywhere. The ground to break his bones, a cliff where his body would be irreparable, perhaps to the dragon’s lair where he would then be devoured. He hadn’t expected the exact moment he really was dropped. He had been, and he was falling and falling until he wasn’t and what he landed in was soft, prickly. A mound of hay. Once the fog of terror and disbelief cleared from his head, he sat up and called out.

“Where did you go? What are you doing with me?”

He wasn’t answered and the only sounds with his own ragged breathing and the single hoot of an owl that silenced itself mid-call. Lowering his head into the crook of his arm, Yuuri let out a sigh and let the impending exhaustion that crept up on him so quickly take over.

Something dropped next to him.

Startled, he sat up, gasping.

Trousers, a plain tunic, and sturdy boots had been haphazardly dropped next to his sleeping form. Looking up, he saw the dragon back in human form wearing a similar outfit, clothed head to toe, and his pale hair drawn into a braid. Crouching down to meet Yuuri’s eyes, he asked,

“Were you crying?”

“I don’t cry!” Yuuri squawked, embarrassed. He scrubbed at his face, attempting to wake up and rid himself of any panic that he was actually feeling.

The dragon’s face remained blank at his words.

“Where did you get the clothes?”

The man gestured to the dark shape of a building near the pinkening horizon. “Farmhouse.”

Yuuri swallowed. “You… Didn’t kill anyone, did you?”

The dragon-man paused, as though to weigh his words carefully. “No. The house is abandoned. They must have run off some time ago.”

“Really?”

He was offered a condescending smile and nod of the head. “Perhaps. You should change, your clothes are soaking wet.”

“Turn around,” he commanded.

The man did as such, but not without laughing silently.

 

Just as he finished lacing the books and tugging on the tunic one last time, he turned to see the dragon regarding him as he moved. He had no way to know if he’d just turned around himself or if he’d been watching the entire time and Yuuri blushed in embarrassment and anger. He hated how flustered he became around the creature. He also hated how close he sat next to him, he was at the top of the haystack and had nowhere to go but down to get away. As a human, he looked so perfect. Too perfect.

“Can you… Not sit so close?” he asked, hoping the man would get the hint.

Instead, Yuuri felt his arm grabbed and he was suddenly tugged and they were less than elegantly running and tripping down the stack to the ground. Breathing heavy from shock, Yuuri turned his back on his companion, thinking he’d angered him in some way. And he was here, waiting, waiting. Waiting to be ripped apart, devoured. To be roasted and diced up into bite sized pieces.

Nothing happened.

Whipping around, hoping he hadn’t been left behind, he saw the dragon just standing there, watching him unblinking.

“What do you want?” Yuuri asked. His voice sounded surer than he felt.

When he didn’t receive an answer, he frowned and repeated himself.

“What do you want from me?”

Still nothing, as though waiting for the conversation to head in a direction he deemed acceptable or at least entertaining.

“I don’t trust you,” Yuuri muttered, wrapping his arms around himself loosely.

A reaction: he laughed, soft and throaty and his response was thick with the accent Yuuri had noticed before. “That is probably for the best.”

Unable to keep the feeling that he was being mocked with that answer, Yuuri added, “And you shouldn’t trust me, either. Just so we’re clear”

An answer of arched brows.

“Just so we’re clear,” he echoed the younger human.

“What do you want?”

The fey seemed to roll his response around for a moment in his mind, as if tasting how it sat on his tongue before replying. “To help you.”

Yuuri couldn’t keep the skepticism from his voice. “To help me? Why would you do that? Out of the kindness of your heart? Are you fond of helping others?”

“I’m fond of revenge.” His smile was sharp.

He thought back to those who testified against him, of Yakumo, Emi, and Kiyoharu who fabricated tales of magic and demons to cast him in a bad light. To his father, collapsing at the front of their house after arguing with Yakumo. Of his mother whose kindness was truly what killed her. She never stopped helping others who got ill even after she caught the sickness. And once she became bedridden, no one came to her aid like she had theirs.

Revenge was such a foreign concept to Yuuri. Yes, he’d played games with Yuuko and Takeshi where they’d get one another with snowballs for hitting them and the like, but that wasn’t true revenge. Revenge was taking what was taken from you. Revenge was burning things to the ground. Revenge was the wails of sadness and despair. Revenge sounded so, _so_ good.

“You would do what I asked? Burn the village, devour survivors?”

He shrugged. “Yours for the asking.” There was a chill in his toothy smile. “Don’t ask.”

There must be a catch. “Why?”

“Revenge is sweetest when it is slow enough that the one doing it can see the results, and that the one to whom it is being done knows where it comes from. Do you want my help?”

It had already been made clear how much he wanted revenge. He’d hissed out his desire to see the people suffer but the dragon was making him face the decision. He was being made to say it out loud.

“Yes.”

The word rolled so easily off his tongue and past his lips.

Another flicker crossed the dragon-man’s face, something so inhuman that Yuuri couldn’t place what emotion it was with his limited knowledge of words. It passed as quickly as it came and for a split second, once again, he felt as though there had been a test that he passed or failed. He still couldn’t tell the difference.

“Then who do you wish to suffer the most?”

“Yakumo.”

“Then he will be last.”

And he told the dragon. Yuuri told the dragon of all the things that had happened to he and his family the last three months. Of the impromptu trial that had been held because of Yakumo and his family, of Inquisitor Feltsman with his slimy smiles and dagger-like tongue. He spoke of his life before everything had gone to hell, of his gliding on the ice with special blades and the feeling of icy air in his lungs as he danced and moved to nonexistent music that his body synced with. The dragon never interrupted him, never made him get back to the point of the revenge. He listened until Yuuri was out of words and spoke not what Yuuri had been expecting. He’d been expecting advice, direction.

“It’s late, or, early, and human bodies are fragile. Let’s get you to the farmhouse where it is warm for the night. We can do more when it is daylight.” Almost as if Yuuri hadn’t been speaking at all.

But he had to admit the man was right. It was bone chillingly cold and though the sky held the faintest hint of pink, it was still late, before dawn. It was safer indoors. As they walked to the farmhouse, Yuuri contemplated his options. He still had time to run. He had a fresh set of clothes that were in much better condition than his original ones had been and he was closer to the next town than not. Now that he’d been carried from Hasetsu. But really, where was he to run? He would be running from a dragon--a real life dragon!--who was easily the size of the house and could fly a great distance. He probably spit fire and had any number of other skills he hadn’t shown.

When they reached the home, the dragon let himself in first, not bothering to see if Yuuri followed behind him. Looking around, Yuuri could see that there was a fire lit. The dragon must have lit it while searching for clothes to bring a warmth and some light to the place. There were some items scattered on the floor, as if the inhabitants must have been deciding what to bring with them in their haste to leave. Turning, he could see scorch marks near the door and some wood splintered on the frame. Odd. There was a lack of bodies, body parts, and blood and he sincerely hoped the dragon hadn’t eaten the people who’d lived here.

Close enough to stir the hairs on the back of his neck, Yuuri could feel the dragon speaking behind him. “I can fetch you something to eat if you’d like.” He shivered.

Whirling around, Yuuri caught the blue eyes of the dragon and bit out, “No. Thank you… I’m not afraid of you,” he added.

The dragon only smirked.

Yuuri managed to find a few aged apples and a strip of salted beef in a sack and, given what he’d been able to eat the last few weeks, they were like a feast to his sore belly. As he ate, he watched as the dragon began to strip and started.

“Ho-Hold on! What are you doing?!” His voice was laced in panic.

Instead of answering, the pale man transformed back into a dragon, a mass of scales and silken mane and tail and claws that curled up near the fire not unlike a cat. His form took up nearly the entire room and his body head somewhat neatly shoved aside the two chairs and churn that had taken residence in the living space.

“What if the owners come back for their home?”

Not an answer, just a hard stare of large blue eyes, his chin settling on his paws.

“What if the villagers and Feltsman come back to check on me, to see if I’ve been eaten?”

The dragon was still silent, giving an eye roll at his questions.

“I feel like I’m being ignored. Can you not speak if you’re not in human form? I wish you’d told me sooner…”

The dragon snorted and quickly transformed back into his human form, ignoring clothes. He stalked right up to Yuuri, anger lighting his features.

“Of course I can speak when I’m not in human form! I can speak the language of any beast’s form I take! If I am a dragon, I speak dragon. If I become a dog, I will speak dog. If I turn into a human, I will speak human!” He reached a hand out and grabbed Yuuri by the bicep, squeezing to ensure he didn’t run away.

Yuuri yelped at the pain and indignantly bit out, “Humans aren’t beasts.”

Rage darkened the blue eyes of the dragon, followed by… Was it disgust?

“THEY ARE TO DRAGONS!” the man shouted in anger, shaking Yuuri slightly in his grip. “And only a human would be arrogant enough to argue it.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but to scoff. “Arrogant? _Arrogant_ ?! _You_ are calling _me_ arrogant?!”

Leaning in close, his face a hair's breadth away from Yuuri’s, the dragon said softly, “Be careful you suddenly aren’t more trouble than you’re worth.” His voice was smooth, soft, deadly.

Yuuri had thought he was more trouble than what he was really worth for years, at least ten, so long as he could recall. The threat was nothing in that respect. He quickly pulled himself out of the dragon’s grip, the sting left behind making him realize that he’d only been able to step away because he’d been ready to let him go. Suddenly, his anger made like a lump in the middle of his chest, heavy.

“I’m sorry.”

The older man’s face showed no emotion, eyes blank as he stared at Yuuri, appraising.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri repeated softly.

When the fey stepped back and made to turn and transform back into his original form, Yuuri caught his breath, a thought coming to mind.

“Wait! If we’re going to do this, shouldn’t I know your name? I don’t want to have to say ‘Hey you, Dragon!’ every time I want to speak with you!”

Turning, the dragon let his narrowed blue eyes weigh and measure Yuuri’s request. He seemed to consider so many more points than he could think of before giving an answer.

“You can call me Viktor.”

A moment later without waiting for more interruptions, he changed back into dragon form, curling up once more.

“Viktor…” Yuuri sounded it out, a foreign word to him. He didn’t say it as he had, his mouth giving a different flavor to the name. “Viktor, I’m Yuuri.”

The dragon opened his blue eyes just long enough to give him a bored look before settling back down to sleep.

  


Waking up was hard. No harder than it had been each day since he lost his family and slowly starved, but there was an ache in his bones that set deep and a weariness that laid on his skin. Opening his eyes, the first thing Yuuri saw was a crouching Viktor watching him with a passive expression from only an arm’s length away. Startled, he let out a yelp and rolled away on the packed dirt of the floor before springing to his feet. Somewhat dizzily, he tried to get his eyes to focus on the dragon-man who stayed crouching but had moved his gaze to follow the younger man. Finding his glasses on the mantle of the fireplace, he jammed them on his face before stuttering out a belated greeting.

“Uh, h-hello? What are you doing?”

Viktor watched Yuuri’s jerky movements, head angled curiously before answering. “I was getting a little worried. You’ve been asleep for some time. I began to wonder if your body was failing due to lack of nourishment.”

“Well, I mean, I was tired. A lot had happened.”

VIktor only nodded once before standing and gesturing to the small table near them. “I was worried, regardless. So I managed to obtain food for you so that your body wouldn’t shut down.”

Curious, Yuuri padded over to the table and saw a wooden bowl filled to the brim and a wooden spoon sticking from the concoction. In the center of the table sat a larger piece of stone cookware containing more of the food.

“Is this…”

“I believe it’s called stew. Meat, vegetables, and other ingredients combined until you don’t know what is what and served as such. I figured you would be hungry by now.”

Yuuri smiled only for a moment before thinking. “And where did you get an entire crock of stew?”

Blue eyes stayed on Yuuri’s brown. “I borrowed it from a nearby home.”

Yuuri raised a brow, face full of skepticism.

“Fine, I stole it.”

“Did you at least leave the people alive?”

“Perhaps.” Viktor’s lips stretched into another somewhat feral grin.

Yuuri sighed and pulled out the chair, dragging the bowl closer to himself and began to eat the still hot stew. It wasn’t bad, nothing like what his mother had made guests and certainly nothing like the dishes she made for just their little trio of a family. Several bites in, he paused, eyeing Viktor who stood in the same spot, watching him as he shoveled food eagerly into his mouth.

“Aren’t…” Yuuri hesitated, feeling as though he knew what the answer was going to be. “Aren’t you going to have some?”

VIktor only blinked slowly. “I fed while you slept.”

“Do I even want to ask what you ate?”

The dragon only smiled.

When Yuuri had had his fill, after helping himself to a second bowl, he turned to the now sitting man in front of him, ignoring the appraising look he was being given as he tried not to squirm in his seat.

“So do you have any suggestions?”

Viktor was silent, eyes seemingly judging Yuuri.

Yuuri cleared his throat. “You know, for what we should do next?”

“You don’t want to head back to the village yet, then.” It wasn’t a question. Nor was he being all that helpful, which had Yuuri’s brow furrowing.

“I think… We should go to Petersburg. It’s a big town, a city really, and we can start revenge on Inquisitor Feltsman.”

Viktor seemed to mull the idea over in his mind, not immediately turning it down. “That is fine. But you will be immediately recognized if this man sees you. You realize this, yes?”

Yuuri paused, jumping when Viktor stood with the utmost fluidity and slowly stalked around his sitting form, eyes appraising and judging. “What?”

“I think we should shear your hair off.”

“WHAT!? Why?”

“You have surprisingly long hair for a village boy. It is a noticeable characteristic and if we shear it off, you will be less recognizable.” Viktor fingered a particularly long lock of black hair sitting at Yuuri’s shoulder. “If we shear it closer to your head like the fashion of the larger cities, it will change your look and make you less likely to be caught by Feltsman.”

“Fine, I guess… It’s just hair, I suppose.”

Viktor let Yuuri’s har run from his fingers as he seemed to think for a moment. “I’m surprised a young boy as yourself kept their hair long. You’re nearly adult age for a human, yes?”

Yuuri flushed. “I’m well-past coming of age. I’m twenty-four.”

Viktor only raised a brow.

“Also, we will need a cover story of why we are together. If we can make it believable, then we have a better reason for being in the city and they will not look twice at us.”

It took everything Yuuri had to not laugh out loud. Viktor clearly did not realize how he looked in his human form compared to the average human. Tall, lean yet muscular, long platinum hair and eyes made of molten ice, cheekbones prominent. He resembled an exotic prince more than the average person.

“What do you suggest?” he said instead.

Viktor tapped a finger on his lips for a moment, thinking hard. “We cannot go as brothers. Even a blind man can see we look nothing alike in any which way. Friends would not get us far, it’s plausible but doesn’t give us much to work with in terms of story. It’s probably for the best that we pose as lovers.”

“WHAT?” Yuuri squawked, shooting up out of his chair, ignoring it as it clamored to the ground.

“What’s wrong?”

“No one would believe for a second that we are lovers!” Yuuri bit out, rolling his eyes and trying to contain his furious blush.

He was only met with a solid stare and a single raised brow. “Why is lovers so ridiculous?”

Yuuri knew he sounded like a choking animal, sputtering half words and a nervous laugh. “H-have you seen what you look like as a human? Next to me? I look like a guttersnipe you pulled from the streets in comparison.”

Viktor snorted. “Humans are so concerned with appearances. I will make sure you and I both look the part by the time we are ready to take in Petersburg. I have been there before and I am aware what humans dress as.”

“You’ve been there before?” Yuuri couldn’t deny he was intrigued at the new bit of knowledge.

“Mmm,” the dragon answered, less impressed than Yuuri was at the idea. “Large copse of man made buildings, enslaved animals, greed and filth abound. The way humans live in the larger cities, sickness starts and spreads so much easier. You think the sickness in your town was bad, it was more than likely on a larger and more prevalent scale there.”

Yuuri was quiet, taking in what Viktor was telling him. Sickness was everywhere. But it never touched on him. And the older dragon’s idea for them to be lovers, it made him uncomfortable but he had to admit Viktor was right that it was the best cover story. No one would believe they were brothers and suspicions of witches and other fey were too high to accept friends as an alibi. Just then, he thought of something.

“I think I may need a different name. Obviously Inquisitor Feltsman knows me by Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Good point. Is there a name you would prefer?”

He paused. Yuuri was always Yuuri. His family had named both himself and Mari to have corresponding kanji in their names, to show they were siblings. But there was no Mari now. The first name that came to mind was,

“Masato. Masato Kubo.”

“Fine. I will remember that name for when we are in town. I believe it might be best for you to sleep more. Your human body is frail and we will be flying the distance to Petersburg. While not a long flight by any means, it certainly is longer than any travel you’ll have done.” Viktor appraised Yuuri’s hunched form, eyes glittering in the light of the fire.

Unable to hide the yawn that crawled suddenly from him, Yuuri breathed deep, nodding. “That’s fine. Wake me when we are ready to go?”

“Go to sleep Yuuri.”

  
  


Yuuri woke only once and he never could shake the heavy weight of slumber from his mind. He rolled over, noting that he was nestled against something warm, yet cool to the initial touch. There was a purring rumble beneath him that lulled him back to sleep.

 

Yuuri was freezing. Or, rather, parts of him were. When he woke, he sensed he was not where he’d laid down the night before on the dirt floor of the old house. Rather, he was nestled between the claws of the iridescent dragon as they both flew through low, damp clouds. The side of him that laid on Viktor’s warm scales was fine, warm enough considering their location. But the side of him open to the elements was almost soaking wet and near numb from the temperature. Unsure if he was able to move in his predicament, Yuuri slowly shifted so that he could warm his other side against the scales, relieved when he hadn’t been dropped or fallen from the dragon’s clutches. It had been barely dawn when he’d fallen asleep but by the looks of the sky they flew in, it was already close to sunset.

If they didn’t hurry, the gates to Petersburg would close and no one would be let in until the next morning. However, he had no idea how close they were, his knowledge of the city only because of his parents and traders that passed through Hasetsu. He knew it normally took a three day’s ride and one day’s boat ride total to get between the two populations, but what was the timeline when with a flying dragon? He wasn’t blue-skinned from hypothermia, so they couldn’t have been flying long. His questions lead him to wonder what had made Viktor decide to leave the house with him while he slept. He had no recollection of waking up and agreeing, nor did he have memories of being asked and being told to keep sleeping. So that meant that Viktor had done as he’d liked. Yuuri was beginning to see the dragon had no qualms about following his own whims, of doing first and asking why it mattered later.

What an infuriating man-dragon.

He did receive acknowledgement from him that he knew Yuuri was awake, a gentle squeeze of his claws. Whether it was just that, acknowledgement, or a little reassurance that Yuuri was safe, he didn’t know. He was still trying to figure VIktor out.

After a while, Yuuri could sense that their flight pattern was changing, descending from the clouds so that they countryside was now visible and he could clearly see thatched roofs of homes, acres of farmland, and a few busy town squares. Up ahead, there was the signs of a larger stead, walls surrounding to either protect or keep in for at least a mile. Petersburg.

And behind them, the sun was sending out its last rays for the day, the sky a dusky purple fading upward into deep blue.

“Viktor,” he called out. “It’s gotten late!”

A gentle squeeze.

Then, suddenly, they were hurtling towards the ground, the sound of wind whipping in his ears and it was all Yuuri could do to not scream out in terror. Instead, what ripped the scream from him was being let go from Viktor’s grasp and hurtling towards another pile of drying hay.

“CAN YOU STOP DROPPING ME SO SUDDENLY!?”

The sound of flapping wings disappeared and when Yuuri was able to escape the hay that clung to him and tried to suck him in, he saw that Viktor was once again naked and only casually pulling on his clothes with what looked to be reluctance.

“It’s quite annoying to get undressed and redressed, isn’t it? How can you stand it?” Viktor asked, face innocently curious.

“When you do it constantly, it isn’t a problem,” Yuuri bit out, spitting out more hay and shaking it from his hair. “Do you really have to drop me every time we go to land?”

“Petersburg is this way. Let’s begin our walk.”

“Don’t ignore me.”

Instead of answering, Viktor reached out for Yuuri’s hand, twining his fingers and giving him a small squeeze. Yuuri only found himself walking on instinct, being pulled along by the older man-dragon. Instead, his eyes and mind were solely focused on their clasped hands. How his tanned fingers against Viktor’s pale skin seemed to look so… so good. The warmth that radiated from him was different from when he was in his dragon form. In his natural form, Viktor's claws were soft, most likely from the natural coolness of scales. But in human form, Viktor’s heat was more obvious. It radiated and sunk deep into his own skin from merely touching hands. He was brought out of his thoughts by Viktor speaking, voice being thrown over his shoulder.

“There is someone I know up ahead. She lives just outside Petersburg. She will shear your hair and fit us proper with clothing. We will be able to stay there for the night, I think.”

“You know a human?” Yuuri asked, curious considering how it seemed Viktor didn’t seem to hold them in high regard.

Viktor turned to smile sharply at Yuuri, causing the younger man to miss a step and nearly trip on a jutting rock. “Who said she is human?”

Yuuri only widened his eyes at that, surprised at the insinuation. “So… Is she another fey?”

“Come along, Yuuri. She’s just at the bottom of the crest here along the treeline. She’s expecting us.”

“How does she know we’re coming?”

Silence, just as Yuuri had expected. He wasn’t sure why he bothered with Viktor.

After a short walk, they came upon the small cottage where Viktor rapped once on the door, waiting with a bored look on his face. While they waited, Yuuri took a look around, noting the ivy covering the domicile and the modest garden that sat as a neat patch, all surrounded by a lush yet well kept field of sweetgrass and wildflowers. The weather in Petersburg was different than back home. There was a different chill in the air and the spots of flowers, they looked heartier. He was still surprised to see them in the last dregs of winter.

“Viktor. Imagine my surprise when I realized I would receive a visit from you today. What can I do for my old friend?”

A voice full of teasing called out from the door as it opened and tilting his head around Viktor to take a peek, Yuuri saw what appeared to be a teenage girl with bright red hair standing in the doorway. She had a hand on her cocked hip, a dark green gown covering her form as her lips stretched in a playful grin.

“Mila. It is good to see you.” Viktor took a step forward, waiting for Mila to make way and let him into the cabin. The girl, however, stayed put.

Her eyes slid to Yuuri, blatantly looking him up and down in curiosity. “And I see you did indeed bring a human. Very curious for you, I didn’t think you wanted a pet.”

“H-hello. I’m Yuuri.”

“But I thought you were Masato? You’ll have to work on that identity of yours, Yuuri.” Mila gave a laugh and stepped to the side. “Come in, both of you. Let’s see what I can do for you.”

Viktor, an impassive look on his face, strode into the cottage, leaving Yuuri to mutter his thanks to the young woman as he followed and she closed the door behind them. Inside, the cottage was seemingly twice the size of what it appeared on the outside. It was set up similar to Yuuri’s family’s business almost, with a kitchen, a sitting area, and what appeared to be a hallway that lead to more rooms.  In the kitchen, there appeared to be dried herbs hanging from the ceiling and a bird of some kind spitted and roasting over a enclosed fire. To their left were plush seats, a roaring fire for warmth, and a wrapped kit in sheepskin on a low table. The floors were entirely wood, something Yuuri hadn’t thought the average person could afford and he could truly say he was impressed. Wary, because this was an acquaintance of Viktor’s, but impressed.

“Mila, I need a favor.”

Viktor helped himself to one of the chairs, ignoring the huff Mila let out as he walked past her and chose the spot closest to the fire. When Yuuri hung back , Mila gestured for him to join them both, sitting herself in the chair across from Viktor and the empty one next to the dragon. The seat had to be stuffed with down and cotton, there was no other way for it to be so comfortable and he felt himself almost melt at the comfort he hadn’t felt since his mother’s arms. Next to him, Viktor seemed to grow a fond smile on his face, small but noticeable, as he ignored Mila nagging at him, crossing his legs.

“Mila, we need your services before we move on.”

Mila nodded, her short red hair bobbing with the movement. “Yes, yes. I Saw it all. You’re being quite generous for someone of your temperament.”

Viktor grunted. “Hush, witch. I take it you know what I am asking from you, then?”

“Yes, of course. Yuuri needs his appearance changed. And if I’m honest about what I saw, I need to teach Yuuri to take care of your appearance while you’re in human form.”

“Excuse me. But Viktor called you a witch. Are you really? A witch.” Yuuri sat up straight in his chair, surprised that the woman smiled and nodded. “And you’re not afraid of being caught dealing in magic?”

Twirling a lock of hair, Mila chuckled. “No, no. I know how to keep myself quiet and I don’t really deal in the general populace. Fey such as Viktor usually come to me and I use my magic for regular humans to forget me after they’ve seen me in town.”

“And you said that you See? Does that mean you can see other things people like myself cannot?” Yuuri had to admit, his curiosity was peaked.

“Yes,” Mila said nodding, letting the lock she’d been playing with fall back in place. “I can See moments in the future. The more I concentrate, the more detail I get from the vision. I saw the two of you arriving today, for example. Now. I think we need to cut your hair.”

“Mila is correct. Cutting your hair can make a large difference in how you look. With this change, this Feltsman fool will have a harder time recognizing you,” Viktor spoke up, leaning towards Yuuri to examine his face. “Something much shorter, uncovering your face. Is this what we need to use?”

He reached out to the wrapped parcel on the table, but his hand was smacked away swiftly. And Viktor pouted. _Pouted_.

“Mila…” he drawled.

“Don’t _Mila_ me. Stay put, dragon man. I will cut Yuuri’s hair. I honestly don't even know if you could do more than hack at the poor boy’s head.”

 

Ten minutes later, Yuuri found himself kneeling in Mila’s garden with the witch standing behind him with a pair of shears and a straight razor, trying to resist the urge to turn around and watch her movements. He wasn’t sure if it was that she was an admitted witch, a stranger, or the fact that she was about to take sharp objects to his head, but he felt what seemed like a justifiable nervousness in the situation. However, the one twitch he gave that indicated his desire and he found a firm hand on his shoulder giving him a squeeze in warning, as if to say _don’t even think about it._

The air was filled with the sounds of metal on metal as the shears slowly progressed through his black hair. It wasn’t that long, nothing like how Viktor’s mane had translated to in human form. But it had gotten to his shoulders once pulled out of the ponytail and was longer than the average male back in Hasetsu and he vaguely wondered if that would have been the case in Petersburg as well.

“Do you have questions for me, Yuuri? You seem the curious type.” Mila’s voice came from behind him, gentle, unobtrusive. It held a faint accent to it and, despite claiming to be a witch and supposedly not a dragon, it reminded him of Viktor’s voice in a way.

Yuuri hummed in thought. “Well. If you don’t mind me asking… You seem as though you’re actually younger than me… Are you?”

“Wow. Going right for the question one ought not ask a woman, her age. You don’t hold back, do you?” She chuckled as he scrambled to take it back and apologize, but she brushed off his panic. “I am only kidding. I don’t mind. I look young, probably eighteen or nineteen to most. But that is the magic keeping me young. I am half human, half fey. So between my heritage and my magic, I stay youthful. I’m much older than you, let’s leave it at that.”

“I noticed you and Viktor have accents that match?”

The sound of the shears paused before continuing. His head felt so much lighter than it had just an hour ago but she wasn’t done yet. “Well, I haven’t known Viktor for too long. But I did meet him some time ago in this country. Not too far from Petersburg but much further from your own town. You are hearing the regional accent we share from living in that area. I would assume, because I can only see the future not the past, that the dragon clan Viktor hails from is in that area. It is where I originally met him, after all. Hold still a moment, I don’t want to clip your ears.”

Yuuri had to admit, the sound of rhythmic _snick snick_ of the shears was soothing. Mila was firm but gentle with her actions as she moved his head to accommodate her actions to get at the hairs. He utterly blamed the relaxing motions on the words that slipped from his lips and he let his eyes close at half-mast.

“Am I safe with Viktor?”

Mila paused, her hands leaving Yuuri’s form, leaving him just a touch chillier. “What makes you ask that?”

“I mean, he’s a dragon. And I’m just a petty human.”

She let out a dark chuckle at his response and began cutting again, the tickle of hairs on his neck made him squirm, but he had to admit it also had to be the witch’s piercing eyes as she looked at the back of his head. “Safe is such a relative term. You could be in danger with anyone and anywhere. Will Viktor ensure your safety as much as he can while the two of you work together? Yes. Will Viktor eat you in a fit of rage? No. Can Viktor be your best friend? It’s possible. I think the best thing for you in this arrangement you have with him is to meet him where he is and it’s the same for him. I think this is the first time in a long time I’ve seen him so standoffish. He can be warmer. I think your relationship together can work better, that is, you’ll feel safer, if you can understand how he thinks as a dragon and as a creature who is much older than you. Does that make sense?”

Yuuri kept quiet the rest of the time Mila worked on cutting his hair. It didn’t take much longer. She’d sheared off he majority of his hair until he had about a thumb’s thickness in the back and leaving hair near the front a touch longer. She took a jar from a pocket of her gown and dipped her fingers in the clear substance within. Rubbing her hands together, she ran her fingers through his hair, pushing the strands back to delicately sit back and leave his face uncovered.

“I made this paste to slick back hair. I’ll let you have this jar, I have plenty to work with. It will last about a day and only needs to be washed out with a bath. I have a bit of mirror inside if you want to see what you look like. But for now, let’s go back in and check on supper. I need to teach you how to braid Vitya’s hair to make things easier while you’re in Petersburg with the humans.”

“Vitya?”

Mila smiled as she brushed some errant hair from Yuuri’s shoulders. “Yes, Vitya. It’s like a nickname. Where I am from, and even in Petersburg, people give loved ones a diminutive. I am fond of Viktor so I’ve decided I’d call him Vitya when he wasn’t being annoying.” Giving him a wink, she strode to the back door of the cottage and went inside, leaving it open a crack for Yuuri to follow.

  


 

It turned out that Viktor’s hair, once in Yuuri’s hands, made the dragon the most docile the younger man had ever seen. Silver strands running through his fingers, Yuuri found himself entranced with the feeling. It was like cool water across his skin, the softness unlike anything he could compare it to, and the dragon, under his ministrations of brushing, detangling, and practice braiding suddenly became a preening, jovial peacock. He had an inkling the spirits Mila kept feeding him also helped. Viktor went from an aloof and threatening god to a giggling, endearing drunk.

“Yuuri, I promise… I promise.”

Yuuri could hardly hold back a grin as he twisted his wrist to braid the cascade of hair once more. Mila sat next to him, telling him tips and different ways to weave with her own grin. “Promise what, Viktor?”

“MMmmm don’t you know? I told you. You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

“I promise. I promise I will help you with your revenge. Humans are awful. I hate them… Most of them.”

Viktor stopped to mutter to himself, words that Yuuri didn’t pick up and that he didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure they were even a human language, but he couldn’t be sure. Instead, he tied off the braid he’d finished and sat back, letting Viktor sit on his own without his grip on his hair. Almost immediately, the older man fell back, his shoulders resting against Yuuri’s legs and his head lolling back to lay on his thighs, blue eyes hazy with inebriation. His face looked sleepily up at Yuuri, who watched with a slightly bewildered but amused grin.

“You’re okay. Mostly. I don’t know you, Yuuri. But you’re different than most humans. You surprise me. Always surprising me.”

“I like Yuuri,” Mila spoke up, causing their eyes to break contact. Viktor rolled his head to look at the witch, smirking.

“I don’t care. You can’t have him. He’s mine.”

Mila’s brow rose, the smirk on her lips frozen at the words.

“Oh really?”

Viktor grunted and shifted in his spot on the floor. He moved his position to be able to lay his head completely on Yuuri’s lap and, ignoring the bright red face the man from Hasetsu wore, snuggled close. “Warm,” he muttered.

Speechless, Yuuri whipped his head between the two fey, heart racing as he tried to figure out what to do. He had a lap of dragon-man, the sleeping face just a little too close for comfort, and a giggling witch to his right. He sighed and rubbed his face wearily.

“What am I supposed to do about this?”

“Well… This is kind of what he does when he drinks human spirits. Though, he also will strip naked, so this was tame. Give it a little bit, he’ll move and you can find the pallet to sleep.”

Yuuri could only sigh as he absentmindedly pet Viktor, the dragon snored softly.

* * *

  


“Masato, we need to be moving. You said it yourself, it’s hard to get into the town sometimes.”

“Yes, I know what I said. I’m just having a hard time in these boots Mila gave me.”

The only sign Viktor had heard him was the slightly slower pace he adopted for the younger man, something that amazed Yuuri. The two days previous, the dragon had had no hesitation in keeping with his own pace and leaving Yuuri behind. Still, he stayed several feet behind, wishing his boots were broken in better and not so brand-new feeling. He was grateful for the footwear either way, however. Mila had gifted them with brand new outfits from head to toe, saying they needed to look less pauper and so easily a target for those willing to take advantage of the naive.

“I wove some spells in the cloth. Some to help you be less noticeable, to protect against the elements, and for luck.”

As he walked behind Viktor, he had to agree with both Viktor and Mila that it was best to keep the dragon’s hair braided. It keep his entire personage more subtle than if they left it loose. The creature in his human form made for a striking man and it took every instance they could to dampen the opportunity for eyes to be attracted to him. Like moths to a flame, really.

When Viktor stopped, it was a surprise Yuuri hadn’t expected. So when he ran into a hard body, he stumbled, only barely catching himself before falling straight onto his backside. Viktor had also turned and reached a hand out, fingers clutched around Yuuri’s wrist and keeping him from completely crumpling to the ground.

“I need you to wait here.”

“Wait, why?” We’re less than an hour from Petersburg. It will be dark soon.”

“We’ll need to pay for our lodgings and food, yes?”

“Well...yes…”

“Then for that we need gold and silver. A lot of it.”

Yuuri nodded. “That’s true.”

Viktor smiled, showing a hint of teeth. “I have a lot of it. Stay in this area. I’ll be back.”

It was only perhaps two hours at the most that Viktor was gone. The sky was a blushed color and it was the beat of wings and the extra gusts of wind that indicated his return. Yuuri had been sitting under a tree, daydreaming as he watched for the man and jumped up at the first signs of him. Casually, Viktor walked up to Yuuri with a sack that jingled as he moved and took the clothes the man handed him, ignoring the red flush of Yuuri’s cheeks as he looked anywhere but at his naked form.

Together, they came upon the the gates of Petersburg. Twilight was descending and Yuuri could feel in the pit of his stomach that they were going to have trouble with the guards letting them in. Sure enough, the guard closest to them who held a lantern at the top of the eight foot wall peered down at them, watching as Yuuri knocked at the gate door.

“Gate’s closed for the night. You’ll have to come back tomorrow after sunrise,” the man called out. The second man along the wall walked over and looked down at the two of them, getting a closer look at who was trying to enter the city at this time of day. They both looked large and had faces that brooked for no arguments.

“Please! We’re looking for shelter!” Yuuri called out, hoping he sounded upset and desperate.

“Can’t let anyone in this late” the second guard called out. “Have to watch out for the witch, we can’t be letting her in.”

Next to Yuuri, Viktor scoffed. It took Yuuri letting out a somewhat loud cough to cover the condescending noise. The dragon-man sighed and rolled his eyes at the antics, turning his head up to look at the guards once more.

“Sirs, please. My husband Masato and I are on our own now, we just seek a bed for the night and a bit of food.”

Yuuri could see the men were still not persuaded and he blurted the first thought that came to mind. “It was the dragon’s fault!”

Three heads whipped around to stare at him.

“T-there was a dragon. He came and destroyed our lands, ate our livestock. My husband and I, we’re only alive because we thought to run while he was distracted with the animals. We tried going to neighbors but it had already been there as well. Please, we’re so tired!”

There was a somewhat pregnant pause as the two guards whispered amongst themselves, gesturing enthusiastically with their hands as they pointed between themselves and the two of them on the outside. After a few minutes of what seemed like arguing, the first guard looked towards them and called out,

“How do we know you’re not the witch?”

“If we were the witch,” Viktor drawled, clearlying becoming a tad impatient, “Wouldn’t we be able to spell our way in or whatever it is witches can do? I can tell you that myself and Masato know no witchcraft.”

The second guard shrugged after a moment. “Let ‘em in. They look like they could use a rest and he’s got a point.”

Getting through was easy enough, waiting for the large wooden doors to swing open and passing a few coin to the men who’d reluctantly bid them entrance, and after they stood on the other side of the walls of Petersburg, staring at the quiet, ink dark streets.

“You’ll want to go to Ice Castle for a place to say,” one of the men called out, heading back up to the top of the wall. “They’re clean and you’ll get a meal with your bed. Not the fanciest, but you won’t wake up dead.”

The slightly cobbled streets, while quiet, were not empty. A place like Petersburg was far different from Hasetsu, several times larger with such variance. There were lively taverns that the two of them walked past, men who stood outside smoking pipes while music filtered out. At the mouth of an alley, a woman called out for Viktor in a sultry tone and the only response he had was to snort in derision and pull Yuuri closer as they walked away. Yuuri only flushed at the promises she called out in a lure.

“I’d recommend you stay clear of any...temptations that other humans may lay out for you while we are here. Though, that is just a word of advice. You are free to do as you wish.” Viktor’s voice was casual but held a hint of hard steel.

Yuuri’s face flammed. “That’s… I’m not…. I’m not interested in that!” he spluttered.

“Not interested in sex?”

“NO! I mean, yes… I mean… I am but, I don’t care of casual encounters. I’d prefer my partner and no one else.” Yuuri rubbed a hand over his heated face, embarrassed at this sudden conversation they seemed to be having, walking down the main street.

Viktor’s response was to hum noncommittally before pointing to something ahead. “That looks to be the Ice Castle the man mentioned.”

“Good. Let’s get inside and ask for a room. This late, there’s bound to be less than savory people on the roads.”

The silver-haired man nodded and pulled Yuuri once more, pushing open the blue door to the unobtrusive inn, nestled between a closed general store and a lively tavern.  Eyes adjusting to the presence of two large fireplaces heartily crackling, Yuuri took in the population of the room. There were a few tables by the fires that held a smattering of people, but otherwise the inn remained fairly empty. The fear he had of someone recognizing Viktor for what he really was was palatable, a sour taste in the back of his mouth he attributed to the bile churning within. A tall woman, hair pulled back in a severe fashion walked up to them, arms crossed.

“Can I help you?”

“We’re looking for a room for the night.”

She frowned. “It’s a little late to be asking for a room.”

Viktor spoke up, voice smooth. “My husband and I are travelling, our home has been recently destroyed. We do have enough for a night or two.”

He went to pull out a gold coin, but Yuuri elbowed him. If he flashed gold pieces, then they’d for sure find their throats slit and bodies robbed bare. Viktor seemed to take the hint and instead pulled a few silver pieces from his pocket before handing them to the woman. She seemed to examine them carefully before nodding and pocketing them in her apron.

“This will buy you both two nights with supper and breakfast is included with your room. I’ll have your room readied and in the meantime you may sit and have your meal. Anya!”

The woman raised her voice, calling out for a girl who looked to be just a few years younger than Yuuri. She came with a “Yes, Madame Lilia?” and eyes that were immediately drawn to Viktor’s form.

“Prepare room two for this couple. Fresh bedding and water pitcher.”

“Yes, Madame.” The girl, Anya, turned to scurry away but kept looking back towards Viktor and Yuuri couldn’t decide whether he was worried she was suspicious or jealous because those big eyes of hers very well could be inviting.

And when Yuuri realized the word jealous bounced around in his mind, over _Viktor_ , he mentally reeled and had to affirm to himself that it definitely wasn’t jealousy.

“Yuuri? Aren’t you going to sit?”

Startled, Yuuri turned to the sound of Viktor’s voice and saw that the dragon-man had sat at a table one from the fireplace in the center and was being poured water by another barmaid. Shuffling over, Yuuri took his seat across from Viktor and allowed the girl to pour him water as well. When she left, he took a long glance at Viktor who was resting his chin on his hand, sharp eyes staring back.

“What?”

“I don’t know whether that was smart thinking back at the gate to mention a dragon or whether I should be upset you blamed me.”

“I never said it was you,” Yuuri pointed out, taking a sip of slightly cooled water. He couldn’t help his chuckle at the rolled eyes sent his way.

“Well, either way, it helped. Looks like you’re starting to understand.”

Yuuri cocked his head. “Understand?”

“Understand that you’ll get farther when you lie.”

“Mm, I suppose.”

There was a break in their quiet conversation as the barmaid came back, laying down two plates of roast chicken and root vegetables. The smell sent him salivating and even Viktor looked interested in the dish.

“This looks good. Much more palatable than the stew humans like so much.”

Yuuri could only hum in agreement, food already in his mouth. It had been a long time since he’d had a meal like this. Since before the sickness had come to Hasetsu, surely. He’d become so focused on cleaning the meat and glistening carrots and potatoes from his plate he spared no time to see if Viktor would actually eat as well. It wasn’t until the last scrap was cleaned from his plate with the brown bread the girl came by to offer that he looked up to see that Viktor’s plate too was clear and the man was drinking deep from his cup.

“Should we head to the room? Tomorrow we can begin your revenge on the false man of god.”

Nodding, Yuuri stood, following Viktor as he went towards the staircase. They climbed together up the narrow stairs and stopped at the door clearly marked with a large painted ‘2’. When Viktor pulled out a key, he was given the simple answer to his confused look of “The girl gave it to me when she first came to the table.”

There was only a single bed. Larger than what Yuuri’d had at Yutopia but still. It would barely fit the two of them with room to spare and the thought made his body run hot and his face burn in embarrassment.

“I should ask for a second pallet,” Yuuri murmured, ready to turn around and talk to the proprietress.

“That’s a bad idea,” Viktor called out, taking off his boots and sitting them near the single dresser with the pitcher of water and basin. “We’re supposed to be married. Wouldn’t it be weird for two humans to sleep in different beds if they’re wedded?”

“Oh… Yeah. You’re right.”

Viktor took in Yuuri’s form by the door, eyes calculating but not nearly as cold as they had been before. “I’d change into my form, but this room is too small and I’d rather not someone see me. Sharing a space with me, is it really so bad?”

Yuuri shook his head, waving his hands in front of him and walking closer. “No! No, that’s not it! I’m just… I just never have. Shared a bed, that is. With anyone outside my family.”

There was a hum from the other man before he decided to crawl into the fresh sheets, patting the spot next to him. “Yuuri, let’s sleep together.”

Choking back a shout, Yuuri could only nod, foregoing his own boots before gingerly climbing in. The softness of the stuffing and the warmth emitted from Viktor was immediately calming and Yuuri could feel his stiff body give a little to the relaxation that crawled towards him. He started on the very edge of his side of the bed, but there was a noise of discontent behind him and he suddenly felt an arm wrap around his stomach and his body be pulled backward. His back met firmness and a radiating warmth, the arm and hand that rested on his belly didn’t leave.

“V-viktor?!”

“Stay close to me, Yuuri. I can protect the both of us better like this and if anyone does come in, we’ll look more like a couple.”

“Okay… thank you.”

There was silence in the room as it seemed they both began to relax. The breathing behind him started to steady but Yuuri had no way of knowing if that was Viktor beginning to fall asleep or if he was matching his breathing to his own.

“Tomorrow. We can assimilate ourselves with the townspeople. Gather information. Plant seeds in the people’s minds.” Viktor’s voice was softer than normal. It matched the quiet and the velvet dark of the night that surrounded them in their tiny room.

“Do you have recommendations?”

“What do _you_ want, Yuuri? It’s your revenge.”

Yuuri took a moment to think. “It seems… People don’t care of innocence with witchcraft or if there are poor or hungry people. It’s a greater sin if the church is slighted itself.”

Viktor was silent, but if the squeeze he gave Yuuri’s midsection was any indication, he was listening and wanted to hear more.

“My family never really practiced the religion brought to us, but I know the church held many valuables. What if we accused Feltsman of stealing?”

“Perhaps. But you cannot just go accusing people of theft. You have to create doubt. Leave a trail of suggestions and incidents that could add up against him. You have to be cunning, have forethought when it comes to destroying someone or it will come back against you. They could say it was you or, with this Feltsman priest, he could recognize you and say that you’re wickedness saved you from the dragon and that you want to destroy a holy man. Then he could try something more drastic. I once saw the remains of a girl who’d been cast out as witch and had clearly been burned at the stake. I see those a lot, actually.” Viktor’s quiet but firm warning was right in his ear and Yuuri couldn’t help but shiver. “I don’t think I could save you from that. Not without revealing myself.”

“Would you save me?”

Yuuri didn’t know why he asked. It was ridiculous. A errant thought that he regretted the moment it left his lips. Of course not. Viktor was a dragon who clearly hated humans and was only helping him to pass the time. He opened to mouth to take it back, but froze when he heard a response.

“I don’t know.”

It was good as a _yes_ in comparison to where they’d begun several days before.

They didn’t speak anymore the rest of the night.

  


 

“So we’ve been travelling and we came to Hasetsu but they’d been in the middle of a witch trial and then there was also the church’s problem…”

“Such a shame. The people were not very hospitable but understandable when…”

“Mmm, yes. When the church had been robbed blind. Silver candlesticks taken right from the altar, the box ripped from the wall. The late priest’s single gold ring missing. They said it had been his personal one and that in his death he gave to the parish to ensure the continuance of the church in the town.”

“All of it gone.”

“So with all the drama there and hearing that Inquisitor Feltsman was there overseeing the trial, we decided to keep moving on.”

Yuuri and Viktor played off one another, holding court in the common room to their temporary home and all those who’d stuck around for breakfast and past. They explained where they’d come from and the trouble of missing church property, Yuuri adequately enough bringing up the presence of Feltsman with Viktor keeping him in line with kicks to the shins when he went too far.

Initially, Yuuri had woken up alone, Viktor’s side of the bed cold. Grumbling more at the lack of additional body heat than being told he was being left alone, Yuuri had let out a sigh and tumbled out of the bed. Washing his face with the cold water and basin they’d been provided, he shivered at the sudden wake up it gave him and laced his boots on, tumbling down the stairs and taking the offered bowl of porridge and apple from who he assumed was the morning cook.

“Where’s your handsome husband?” she asked, winking.

“Lord only knows,” he grumbled. “Probably went looking for what kind of work is available for us.”

The cook nodded with a smile, walking back to her pot and doling up another serving as another pair of feet could be heard descending down the stairs. Yuuri wondered where she’d heard about Viktor, not surprised word of his looks had already spread. She might have been the mother of the barmaid or of the Anya girl who had been made to prepare their room. It wasn’t until the sun was almost completely out and Yuuri had been blessedly given seconds by the kind woman that Viktor came back to Ice Castle, whistling with the most friendly smile Yuuri had ever seen him wear on his face.

“Good morning, Masato!”

Viktor dropped into the chair next to Yuuri, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pressing a kiss into the crown of his head. Yuuri stiffened for a moment before willing himself to relax. He snuck a confused look to the older man but only received a pointed look.

“Good morning, Viktor. Where have you been?”

Viktor accepted a bowl of porridge with a _thank you_ to the woman but made no immediate move to eat. “Looking for work. I also wanted to get to know Petersburg better since we’ve never been.”

And that had been how the whole inn had gotten dragged into their lies. The gregarious personality that Viktor had adapted seemed to work like a flame for moths and people became enraptured with the story he’d begun to tell, the way he’d accentuated with drama each section Yuuri spoke. Together, they’d woven a story of scandal for Hasetsu. How the town had seemed to fall apart at the seams once Feltsman had arrived and the witch they’d left on the hill and the now bare pulpit of the church. Yuuri had been right. The people listening had been much more appalled that the silver and offerings box had been taken than the noise of a witch.

“Trust Feltsman to be there in the thick of it with a witch trial while people get the shirts from their backs taken.”

Like that, the first part of action against Inquisitor Feltsman was complete.

* * *

  


Viktor had gotten more from his hoard. He didn’t tell Yuuri where he’d hidden it. Just that it was safe from the others in the city and there would be plenty to ensure the demise of Feltsman. He handed him a bag of silver coin, slapped a cap on his head, and told him where the priest’s home was and began to walk away.

“Where are you going now?” Yuuri asked, confused.

Viktor only smirked and turned, his direction not changing as he disappeared into the throngs of people.

Looking down at the pouch in his hands, Yuuri quickly hid it in his clothes and began searching out the home Viktor had described. It took a good hour and asking a blacksmith’s apprentice when he got turned around, but eventually, around lunchtime, he found himself in front of Feltsman’s house and that he was knocking on the heavy door. Instinctively, he pulled the cap down lower over his face, hoping his features wouldn’t be noticeable under it.

It was the Inquisitor himself who flung the door open, the sounds of footsteps missing to warn her of his approach. The visual he gave was no less daunting to Yuuri now as it had been before, imposing, stern features, and a gruff voice to match.

“Yes? What is it?”

“I…. I….”

“Spit it out!”

It seemed Feltsman lacked patience, as he was near growling at Yuuri in his stammers and it took a deep breath and the first thought that came to mind to make words pass between his lips.

“I’ve come from Sochi. There’s a man there who’s possessed. Very violent, speaking in devil tongues, eyes cloudy. My father sent me, said to get a priest before someone gets hurt. Will you come?”

Feltsman rubbing a hand along his jaw, thinking. Sochi was a three days ride by horse.

Trying to sweeten the pot and get him to accept, he plunged a hand into the sack of silver and drew out a fistfull. “My father said to give you this.” He thrust the coins into Feltsman’s hands and, looking up, saw that the man was sold. “There’s more. They were still collecting when I left.”

Feltsman nodded slowly. “Tonight there is a vigil for the patron saint of Petersburg, Saint James. Be here first thing tomorrow and we can set out for Sochi.” He went to turn and return to whatever it was he’d disturbed from but Yuuri kept going.

“My father, he sent my brother to Moscow for the priest there. Figured one of you would get there first. The man is in terrible condition! He’s afraid he’ll hurt someone. So he figured whoever would get there first would get the extra money…”

Feltman, half turned towards Yuuri, seemed to be thinking hard. As if he was doing Yuuri a favor. “Fine, fine. As soon as the vigil is done tonight, meet me here. No later, I will have my things ready with a horse, and I will tolerate no nonsense.”

“None, sir.”

Feltsman seemed to weigh Yuuri in his mind with his glare, looking doubtful at how much he was willing to trust Yuuri’s word but must have felt the weight of the silver and promised reward was greater than whatever misgivings he had and nodded. Without another word, he turned and slammed the door in Yuuri’s face.

 

Yuuri was walking around, trying to figure out where Viktor could be when he heard someone hiss and cluck at him from the alleyway. Turning his head, he saw Mila wrapped in a shawl, holding a basket in the crook of one arm.

“Masato, how are things going?” she smirked, winking at him.

“It’s fine. Should you be here?”

She shrugged. “I’ll be okay. I wanted to check in on you. Just be careful. It will all get pretty intense and you’ll be in too far to make a break for it.”

He frowned, a shiver running up his spine.

“You keep dangerous company. As much as I like Viktor, just remember, he _is_ not what you see.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Yuuri murmured, looking around. It seemed no one had paid him any mind yet, the man talking to shadows.

Mila winked again. “My advice is always free. You know where to find me.”

“But I don’t, it was Viktor who…”

He’d taken his eyes off of her for one moment but it only took that one moment for her to vanish.

Another shiver ran down to Yuuri’s bones and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. Did all fey disappear so easily?

  


Yuuri made it back to the Ice Castle a few hours later, immediately zeroing in on Viktor who sat at a table with an untouched mug of mead and an impatient mask on his face. When the dragon saw Yuuri his face cleared slightly of the storm clouds covering it and he stood abruptly. “Yuuri! Let’s head up to the room and chat!”

“S-sure?”

The two patrons who sat conversing of sheep breeding and the proprietress ignored them as they took the narrow stares and Yuuri took a spot on the bed as Viktor locked the door. Getting on his knees, Viktor rested in front of Yuuri as he reached under the other man and pulled out a sack that _clinked_ and _clanked_.

“I have tools to help us. You’ll have to let me know which will work best, of course.”

Yuuri nodded. “I saw Feltsman. Told him he was needed for an exorcism and he agreed to meet tonight after the vigil for the town’s patron saint.”

There was a faint look of pleased surprise on Viktor’s face before he asked, “When’s a vigil?”

Yuuri wondered if he also wanted to ask what a vigil was but told him most vigils were at sunset. “Which means it will have just begun. We should leave now. We’ll have to plant a little gold into his horse’s saddlebags to frame him, I think.”

He was ready for the older man to scoff and call the plan ridiculous but instead Viktor dumped the bag of ‘tools’ he’d fetched, the sound of metal against one another filling the room.

Gold. Copper. Silver. More gold. Rubies and diamonds and emeralds encrusted on chalices and plates and even silver candlesticks. Small dishes that looked to be from communal services. Yuuri couldn’t help but gawk. It was more treasure, more wealth than he’d seen his entire life. He felt like a beggar who’d walked into a king’s court and judging by the amused look on Viktor’s face, he was spot on with how he actually looked.

“I take it these are from… you’re, ah…”

“Hoard.”

“...hoard,” he repeated. Why did he feel so weird saying it before Viktor did?

“Anyway, I guess i can put some of this in his bags, cut the bags so that it starts to fall out and people will notice. I noticed a window that was open. If you can hide more of it in his rooms when everyone is gone, that should do it.”

Viktor nodded in agreement to the plan. “If you’d toss the bag up to me, I can change into a bird and go in, turn human, plant the items, turn back into a bird…” Viktor seemed to pause in thought, a finger tapping his lips. “Of course, if I go back into the church without clothes on, I’ll surely be noticed… You always seem to.”

Yuuri’s face lit red in embarrassment. Did Viktor just _tease_ him?

Viktor smiled his dragon smile, something like he got the joke no one had told Yuuri yet and he couldn’t help but swallow hard.

“I’ll bring your clothes and hide them outside the church, behind the bushes. Meet me as soon as you can.”

Yuuri had to scramble to turn and face the wall as Viktor began to strip, resisting the urge to turn and watch.

 

Yuuri was standing outside Feltsman’s house, infinitely grateful that the priest hadn’t shut the window from that afternoon. On a post not far from him, Viktor sat in bird form, a raven streaked with silver in the black feathers, waiting for his cue. Taking a deep breath, he heaved the sack full of money and goods more valuable than Yuuri’s own life. It struck the side of the house halfway up and fell to the ground with a thud.  He ignored the bird, knowing Viktor probably had some version of a smirk on his birdy face and retrieved the bag to try again. It took three more tries for Yuuri to succeed, the stare of Viktor and the readied horse boring into his back. He was grateful he’d made it the fourth try. How would he have explained being caught hurling a sack of gold at the Inquisitor’s window?

Immediately, Viktor followed the bag through the window and he switched his attention to the horse, who was a little nervous from the ruckus. “Easy, it’s okay.” Hands up, he let the horse inspect him and was surprised to see the horse was much calmer with the lack of Viktor’s presence. Working quickly, he stuffed the candlesticks, plates, gold pieces, and a ring in the saddlebag before cutting a long slit in the back where the jostling of the horse in movement would easily dislodge some of the planted gold pieces and thus the eyes of the townspeople drawn towards the priest. He had to throw a bulky cape out of the bag and into a nearby bush, but the majority of it all had fit. Wiping sweat from his brow, Yuuri gathered Viktor’s clothes and hustled to the church, slipping in during a prayer after hiding the garments in his arms. Moments later, Viktor followed. Church goers twittered around them in disapproval and at first, Yuuri thought it was because they’d come so late to the vigil. But after listening to the hushed words, it sounded like something was missing from the service. At the front of the church, Inquisitor Feltsman and a second priest were trying to conduct the closing prayer.

In front of him, a man Yuuri had spoken with about a job, the local tailor, turned at the sound of Yuuri’s quiet question of what was happening. “Yes, that’s right. You’re new in town. It seems like the chalice of Saint James is missing. It’s a holy relic brought back from the middle east and because it’s so precious, it’s only used for special occasions. It’s encrusted with rubies and emeralds so that it’s missing, this is a big thing.”

Rubies. Emeralds. A chalice. It only took two seconds for Yuuri’s mind to connect the dots and it was all he could to do to control his face into a gentle shock.

“Really? That’s awful! So they’ve done the service without it?”

The tailor nodded. “Father Popovich usually uses it but it missing, you can tell he’s upset.”

Viktor spoke up, leaning in to be a part of the conversation. “Well, that’s not good. That’s not likely to be misplaced.”

Knowing Viktor as he did, even just for their short time together, Yuuri could tell the false worry laced in his voice and the growing knowledge that the dragon had somehow managed to sneak the city’s holy relic out from under their noses slowly grew on his face. Those around him seemed to mistake his surprise and horror as a dismay towards the missing relic itself and didn’t question him. He couldn’t even answer Viktor who seemed to look towards him expectantly.

“Just like at Hasetsu…” he voiced.

The townspeople around them continued to murmur amongst themselves, voices growing louder as word spread.

Slowly and deliberately, Viktor said, “Maybe it wasn’t someone from Hasetsu who had stolen the candlesticks from their church… Maybe there’s someone going from town to town stealing holy items from churches. We were so lucky to not be set upon while on the road, Masato. Did anyone see someone loitering around the church?”

The people seemed so convinced already. Yet none of them seemed to realize that they were strangers. Thankfully.

“Maybe someone should tell Father Popovich and Inquisitor Feltsman about Hasetsu, too?” Yuuri added and the noise of the congregation increased. The noise of the crowd continued to increase until the vigil was no longer on anyone’s mind and both Yuuri and Viktor, who had grabbed the hand of the former, followed the flow of the crowd as it surged outside and around the corner to where both priests were standing, feet from Feltsman’s horse.

“QUIET!” the Inquisitor bellowed. The man’s face had touches of purple and red from anger.

“But _why_ must you leave now? The church has been burglarized and we don’t know if the thieves will come back!” The voice of Father Popovich was whiny as he wrung his hands in worry. The crowd watched the two as they spoke.

“I told you, I’m urgently needed in Sochi for an exorcism.”

“But surely tomorrow is fine! The church needs you!”

“The boy said it couldn’t wait and he’s supposed to be here now, waiting for me--”

Yuuri ducked into the crowd to avoid being spotted, the hard gaze of the Inquisitor searching the crowd. “--And if he doesn’t hurry, I will have no choice but to go on without him. As for any thief, just put three trustworthy people inside the church, lock the doors, and post three more outside. I have faith you can handle everything in my absence until I return.”

Just by the looks of him, Yuuri was unsure if Father Popovich could handle much of anything. He seemed overwhelmed by life itself and like he had his mind anywhere but in the present.

Viktor had made his way to the edge of the crowd, the mass of people who’d spoken with them inside all telling the priests about the missing candlesticks in Hasetsu and urging Viktor to share his story. The amount of people talking was overwhelming and even Yuuri couldn’t distinguish one person’s voice from another in the din of words.

With the approach of Viktor, Feltsman’s horse suddenly became skittish. Snorting, it sidestepped and threw its head back in fright. It was a similar reaction to the horses that had helped take Yuuri to the top of the hill where he was abandoned, an obvious reaction to the young dragon in his presence but anyone else would attribute it to the size and noise of the crowd.

“I don’t have time for this,” Feltsman groused. He swung himself up into the saddle and repeated his instructions for the church. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

The horse reared up and landed heavily onto the earth. Something gold fell from the baggage.

As Feltsman guided the horse towards the road, Viktor swooped down and picked up the fallen gold coin. “Inquisitor! You dropped this!”

The horse reared again and another gold piece fell. And another. Feltsman turned to his head to see what the matter was.

“You’ve dropped this,” Viktor called out, hoping up the coin. It sparkled in the light of the torches lighting the area.

“Not mine,” the priest said, clearly annoyed with so many interruptions.

“Not mine either,” said Viktor said shrugging. He held it up as to let the owner claim it.

“There’s another one!” Yuuri called out, pointing to the ground. “Under the horse!”

Inquisitor Feltsman turned himself and the horse at the sound of his voice and he hid behind a larger man, not wanting to be discovered too soon. Another person in the crowd retrieved the second coin.

“It isn’t mine,” he repeated. “Now move out of my way. I have work to do.”

Viktor took a step forward, now standing out from the crowd. “Maybe you should hold onto it until the owner is found?” The horse reared once more and a handful of coins came free.

“They’re coming from your saddlebags,” someone pointed out.

“Nonsense,” Feltsman spat out.

Another coin dropped onto the pile and the sound was clear in the silence that had settled over the crowd.

Father Popovich came forward, wringing his hands in agitation. Licking his lips, he stuttered out what all the townsfolk were thinking. “Perhaps… perhaps we should take a look at your bags. Just to be sure.”

Furious, Feltsman swung off his horse but as soon he untied the bag and started to hand it to Father Popovich, the entire bottom ripped out. Gold and silver coin rained down onto the street, along with the silver candlesticks, the golden plate, and Saint James’ chalice.

“I-I-I-” Feltsman moved from shock to suspicion in less than two breaths. “Someone put those there. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” the man who’d gathered the second coin repeated. “Which just leaves us with the question of why you were so anxious to leave town.”

“Oh dear,” Father Popovich said, looking as though he wanted to throw up.

The Inquisitor scowled. Although his words answered the townspeople, he looked at Popovich with disdain. “I’ve been called to Sochi for an exorcism, you silly boy!”

“Sochi is a seaport,” another person in the crowd pointed out. “Easy to smuggle things, lots of opportunity for stolen goods.”

“I DID NOT STEAL THESE THINGS!”

Feltsman grabbed Popovich by the shoulders and shook him, face red. “There was a young man from Sochi, he came telling me his town needs an exorcism performed, I tell you! That is where I am going and when I find that little--”

That sounded like a cue to Yuuri so he stepped into the line of sight and was immediately spotted.

“There! There he is!”

Yuuri looked to either side of him and behind, as if looking for someone.

“You! You boy!”

Yuuri acted as though he had no idea who he was speaking to and acted as a part of the crowd. Even when Feltsman let go of the other priest and stalked forward, he acted as though he didn’t know who he was speaking to until he reached forward to grab him by the shirtfront. He was intercepted by Viktor, who batted his hands away and pulled him to his side somewhat protectively.

“You came to me about a man speaking in tongues who heard voices! Tell them! You were there this afternoon!”

The tailor spoke up. “No, the boy was with me this afternoon, talking with me about work.”

“He was at my shop, too!” another merchant spoke out.

“And mine!” The person added, “And that accent isn’t from Sochi, no way.”

“This is awful,” Father Popovich whimpered. “We’re going to have to look at your rooms, Father Feltsman.”

“You won’t find a thing there!” Feltsman declared. Swiveling back towards Yuuri, he said firmly, “You were here.”

“He can’t have anything to do with the thieving,” someone called out. “He’s the one who told us _about_ all the thefts!”

Two townsman took Feltsman by the arms and, lead by a simpering Popovich, marched into the house. Too many jammed into the doorway to follow, so many that neither Yuuri nor Viktor could see into the doorway. But it wasn’t long before there was a loud cry of more being found. A large leather bag full of old and priceless items in the Inquisitor’s clothes chest.

Viktor nudged Yuuri and the two of them walked away from the chaos. Several streets away where the noise of an outcry had dimmed, Viktor turned to look at Yuuri. “Well,” he said. “What do you think? You don’t look at pleased as I would have thought.”

Yuuri looked at Viktor’s face, taking in the passive, questioning look that lit the angled features. He realized that the dragon was right, he wasn’t feeling all that pleased. “I feel like this created a lot of problems for Father Popovich.”

“Ah,” Viktor said simply.

Yuuri raised a brow, wondering what that was supposed to mean.

“Maybe you’ll have better luck with Yakumo.”

“Maybe.”

  
  


Viktor flew them back east. It was a rising sun that woke Yuuri from his worried sleep and despite the heavy, winter-low sun on the horizon, the cold light had been an unwelcome wake up call. When Viktor went in for a landing, Yuuri braced himself for a hard and jarring dumping on the ground. Instead, Viktor landed neatly, haphazardly letting him fall from his claws only a dozen feet in the air. Rolling on the leaves and fallen branches was uncomfortable but a much better alternative.

Viktor, as usual, had little shame as he strode around without his clothes. And for a moment, Yuuri wondered if the dragon was actually _preening_ at the chance for Yuuri to see him in his nude human form. Rolling his eyes and failing to suppress a grin, he threw the shapeshifter’s clothes at him and stood, brushing off the litter that clung to him.

“Now what?” Yuuri asked.

Viktor frowned at him as he pulled on his pants. “I want you to come up with your own revenge. If these are the people who threw you away to a dragon, it would be best if you cultivated it.”

Viktor began to walk in a direction, as usual, and Yuuri kept pace, already expecting him to just leave without seeing if he would follow. At one point in this game they’d created, Viktor would surely abandon him, mid-lynch mob or when they were at the point of lighting the stake he was tied to on fire.

When they left the trees and came out into a clearing, Yuuri was shocked to see the frozen pond just feet away. It wasn’t frozen enough to glide on, but the memory of the blades crafted by his friends stung just as much as it rang sweet. It was Yakumo noticing him on the ice that gave them the fuel to further condemn him.

“I noticed an old, abandoned shed of some kind this way,” Viktor stated, pointing to a patch of wood separate from the rest.

Yuuri knew exactly what the older man was referring to. It was a place he’d run to as a child when he wanted to escape the pressure of his family owning an inn and when he’d gotten bullied. Made of boards slapped together, it had to have been made at least twenty years before and ready to fall apart into a pile of splinters and dust for just as long. At the very least, since Yuuri had been visiting it and he was surprised to see it still standing. It was just big enough to hold two grown men and their fishing supplies. The last time he’d been to the shed, it had been about three years before and had been chased out by something furry and possessing a lot of teeth.

The door stuck and took a single firm shove from Viktor to open. IT was full of cobwebs, dirt, and rusted tools. No one, let alone residents from Hasetsu, had been here in some time. More than likely, it only stood as a relic of the past, before witch trials and spreading sickness consumed the countryside. There was a single barrel standing in the center of the room, a thick layer of dust and litter blanketing it until Yuuri immediately reached out to wipe it away.

“This will do until evening,” Viktor said, taking a seat on the barrel as though Yuuri had cleaned it just for him.

“What’s this evening?” Yuuri leaned against the door, careful of spiders and wary of the shack collapsing. It held.

“You’re revenge. You cannot put it off. So you need to think of something.”

Yuuri stuttered, put on the spot. “I-I don’t know…”

“Mm, but you know these people. You _know_ them, Yuuri.”

Staring at the toe of his boot as it dragged circles in the dirt, Yuuri wracked his brain for any info he had on his awful neighbors. Yakumo was greedy and cruel. His wife Emi was a gossip and cared more for the image she and her family carried more than anything else. Except money, of course. Then there was Kiyoharu. The son. He loved to drink. He spent his money from being his father’s apprentice at the small pub Hasetsu had, owned by a retired entertainer. There had been many a late night where Yuuri had been awake and heard the commotion of Yakumo dragging his son up the street and into their home while Emi attempted to shush them. This was common knowledge. What was on a more need-to-know basis, a poor secret kept from many was that Kiyoharu had a temper. He was spoiled, everyone knew, but his rotten personality would fully emerge when he had drinks and there were many travellers and townspeople who had been paid off by Emi and a grumbling Yakumo for their silence on their son’s assaults. He picked fights with men twice his size and skill, advance on men and women who never gave him a glance or denied him, and when spurned, he turned his frustrations into actions. Only, those who frequented the pub knew and it was the silver and gold of Yakumo that glued their mouths shut. Yuuri knew because his family was close with the pub owner.

“I think I’ve thought of something,” Yuuri murmured, brow furrowed.

Viktor leaned in, kean with interest. HIs blue eyes seemed to light from behind, shining in anticipation. “Go on.”

“Well, their son likes to drink himself stupid. I think if you were to meet him in the pub, he would… He would find you his type.”

Viktor looked amused for a moment. “His type?”

Yuuri failed at keeping back the flush on his face. “Your human form. It’s very attractive. He would be drawn to it. Anyway. He would more than likely try to woo you, to attempt to take you to bed and if you rebuff him, then it makes a scene and you can…. Blow it up.”

“You want me to let him assault me so that we can take town his character?”

“NO! I mean… Kind of? But I don’t want it to go that far. We just need to let him notice you and for him to try and impress you. You tell him no and make it public. Everyone knows he drinks too much but not everyone knows he’s violent. Once everyone in town sees him this way, then they will look to Yakumo and Emi and then, knowing the people of Hasetsu, they’ll be asked to leave.”

Viktor seemed to size Yuuri up for a moment, bright eyes staring him down. It made him shiver inside and out and the sight of it seemed to make Viktor smile, lips stretched in a pleased manner. Instinctively, Yuuri stiffened, standing straight from his spot against the door, and faced Viktor head on.

“What?” he asked, somewhat wary.

Viktor crooked a finger, beckoning Yuuri closer and, despite the bells going off in his head, he did as instructed, stopping only when his knees hit the barrel where the dragon perched.

“Yuuri, did I hear you correctly?”

He could only give him a questioningly glance.

“You said my human form is attractive.”

“Oh… Did I?”

Viktor nodded. His face was impassive, save for the small grin on his lips and the way his eyes were lit.

“I guess I did. Yeah.”

Yuuri couldn’t help the goose flesh that rose on his skin as he felt slim fingers grasp his wrist and pull him a little closer. They were the same height, with Viktor on the squat barrel, bringing him down the few inches to meet Yuuri eye to eye. The fingers that circled his wrist were strong but were not squeezing him too tight. Instead, his skin caught on fire at the thumb that brushed against the pulse resting between the fine bones and veins. He knew Viktor could feel that beat stutter at the sensation and in turn, he felt the breath of the dragon wash over him as he let out a soft chuckle.

“Do you agree, Yuuri? You say he’ll be attracted to me. Are you attracted to me? Do you want to take me to bed like that drunkard?”

Yuuri kept his eyes on Viktor’s lips as he spoke, as each word wrapped around his meaning and swallowed hard. “No.”

“No?” Was that disappointment in his voice?

“No. He’s foul. If I took you to bed, it would be nothing like him.”

Yuuri could only see blue. A blue he once thought cold but could see it suffused with warmth. A fire that he swore was Viktor’s soul. He saw blue and could feel the heat of his breath ghost on his lips. A challenge, or was it askance? Was that a hitch in breath he heard? Was it his own or was hit Viktor’s, he wasn’t sure and it was the last thing he cared to figure out. Instead, the nerves along his skin continued to burn, his face on fire as a second thumb brushed across the apple of his cheek.

Viktor pulled back, eyes still full of fire, as he let go of Yuuri. They both seemed to shiver from the lack of the other’s body heat, but they both seemed to refuse to respond to why. “It’s getting late, I assume now would be a good time to head to Hasetsu for me to start this plan.”

Yuuri nodded, swallowing thickly.

“Stay here until I come back. I will have the town hate him and we can move on from there.”

Viktor’s absence was sudden, cold, and more than a little abrupt. Yuuri was left standing in front of the barrel, confused and a little dizzy. The thoughts that had been swirling in his mind were still present and it took him a moment of deep breaths to wash his mind and center himself back into the situation. Viktor had left him alone, in a rickety shed, without even asking if he wanted to come. And while Hasetsu was different from Petersburg where everyone would recognize him, surely they could have come up with a disguise of some kind?

Yuuri warred with himself for almost an hour before he left their temporary shelter, taking in the surroundings and heading towards what was once his home village. It wasn’t far. The shed and pond sat closeby and it had been a short enough walk for most of the townspeople to be a part of the procession that lead to his exile and presumed death. The sun was fully set when he came to buildings, homes of people he once called neighbors. Keeping to the shadows, Yuuri headed to the pub to try and scout out the situation. He passed their little in and Yutopia looked like a shell, a dead husk. No lights shone from windows and it looked far colder than it ever had been in the past, lacking any Katsuki or fire to keep the warmth. He only looked a moment before moving on. It felt like a slap to see it sit there, abandoned. Yakumo had wanted it so bad and he’d had nearly a week to do something with it, but it looked as though now that he had what he wanted, after months of claiming he had _so many plans if you just sell it to me!_ , it stood as another relic of the forgotten past. The man’s home next door radiated what once also resided inside Yutopia, light and what looked to be warmth.

Yuuri sped ahead to get to his intended destination.

His family had been close with the owner of the drink house. An entertainer who’d grown up in Hasetsu with his parents’ generation, she came back to take over her family’s business and had been growing it since. Yuuri had considered her an aunt and hadn’t seen her at his trial; he’d been thankful not all those he considered close had seen him in that dark moment. He knew that, worse case scenario if he was seen, she’d whisk him away. He didn’t want to have to put her on the spot like that and, as he neared the back door to the building, prayed the shadows kept him hidden enough. Slinking in, he kept to the darkest, and thus coldest, corner near the bar back room and looked around, taking in the scene.

Viktor sat center court, like a king entertaining his subjects as he talked freely with those who seemed to be asking him questions at his table. His hands were wrapped around a cup but he seemed to be ignoring it in favor of drawing attention to himself. A handful of regulars all looked to be fascinated with whatever Viktor said, several others sat further away either ignoring him or listening with vague interest. Then, next to the bar itself with a large flagon, sat Kiyoharu.

The man had eyes dark and sharp like a predator as he watched every move, every breath Viktor took.

Yuuri shivered. Not at Kiyoharu’s face. Rather, the icy and smug look in the dragon’s eyes that said he knew he was being watched by the target as planned.

It took two more rounds for Kiyoharu to get up from his perch and make his way to Viktor. By then, most of the patrons had left him to go back to their groups or leave for the evening, but those who stayed watched the man lazily make his way to the stranger before looking at one another and shaking their heads. Yuuri could see the owner behind the counter narrow her eyes and tense.

Kiyoharu was quiet when he first started his flirtations. He always thought he was charming, suave, a good example of what one wanted in a lover and even husband. Unfortunately, his was all drunken babble and stumbled attempts at seduction and it left no one impressed. Yuuri couldn’t hear the conversation, but he could see the confused look light on the drunk’s face and Viktor’s glance of disdain barely smothered by pretended interest.

Yuuri felt guilt gnaw at him for suggesting Viktor do this.

They talked for a short time, Viktor allowing the man to lay a hand down on his, stroking the skin with the tips of his fingers as though trying to sooth him, lure him. He got close to Viktor, whispering things in the dragon’s ears that were probably meant to be suggestive but he could see him roll his eyes before Kiyoharu pull back and search his face for the emotions he was hoping for.

Then he saw a hand disappear under the table and Viktor was no longer able to keep up his charade of disinterest.

Yuuri was barely able to keep to the shadows.

There was a scuffle of Kiyoharu trying to seat Viktor again, the dragon man having stood and shook off the wandering hands of the drunk. When he didn’t do as expected, Kiyoharu became red-faced, shouting at Viktor who quipped back something that seemed to make everyone in the room flinch.  He began walking to the exit after throwing a coin on the table and  as he opened the door, the other man caught up, grabbing his wrist in what he meant a painful grip. Viktor only looked annoyed before shaking him off and leaving. Yuuri dashed out the back door and came around the side of the building, ducking around to watch as the drunk man attempted to subdue Viktor against the side of the front, pushing his chest  into the window and holding his hands behind his back. The commotion of Kiyoharu yelling profanities and drunken slurs caught the attention of the townspeople in their homes. People were coming out from doorways, coaxing their children back inside, asking one another what was going on. A few pub patrons came out, trying to get the man off Viktor with little success. He punched one man sloppily, shoving him to the ground before trying to reach around to Viktor’s front and it was all Yuuri could do to not run up and pull him off the dragon. His movement in the shadows caught Viktor’s attention, however, and there was a scowl on his sharp features.

It seemed as though the whole town now occupied the street, watching Yakumo’s son assault a traveller. The titters and whispers grew until two men, sober and coming from a few homes, pulled him off Viktor, smacking him and throwing him to the ground. The pub owner came to Viktor, whispering to him as she helped him straighten his clothes. Viktor waved her off, glancing down at Kiyoharu, who laid on the ground, moaning that his nose was broken.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

Yakumo and Emi were arriving now, the two glancing at the townspeople. Emi had a look of glee at the wealth of gossip she could procure until she looked to where the semi-circle of spectators had their attention. Her face dropped so suddenly, it would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so bad.

Yakumo walked up to his son, grabbing his arm and pulling him up, looking around to the scene. “What’s going on? Did that stranger attack my son?”

“Don’t be a fool. You know damn well your son is not the victim.”

“Minako, there’s no need for language!” Yakumo looked at his son’s face, frowning at the blood. “Who hurt my son?”

One of the patrons spoke up, more sober due to circumstance than he had been a half hour before. “Your boy did it. Again. You need to put a leash on him, Yakumo.”

The man stuttered. “What do you mean?” His eyes shifted to the crowd.

“No more. We’re done lying for you. Your son is a menace,” Minako, the owner, put a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “He’s attacked too many people. I won’t put up with it anymore.”

“Attacked?”

“Kiyoharu’s been hurting people?”

“Not surprised. He’s too into the drink.”

The Hasetsu townspeople were whispering. Some. Others didn’t care to hold in their voices, their speculation and comments loud in the silence of the evening. Emi looked fit to cry and Yakumo’s face was red in anger.

“I don’t know what you--”

“Oh stop lying, you fool. Your son is a mean drunk who would mate anything with legs and when he doesn’t get his way, he gets violent!” The local butcher crossed his arms, standing by his statement. Others nodded their heads in agreement.

“His father paid my cousin off because he’d assaulted him when he turned him down!”

“He tried to beat me up after losing at cards last spring!”

Yuuri wasn’t able to hear the townspeople garner their courage and continue to shame their family. He felt a rough hand on his upper arm pull him up from his crouched position and pull him away from the scene. Turning to look, he saw Viktor hurrying them out of the village with a frown on his face. Neither of them spoke until they got back to their shed, the flimsy door shaking as it was slammed shut.

“What part of stay here didn’t you understand?”

Viktor didn’t raise his voice, but Yuuri could tell there was frustration lacing every word.

“I-I needed to see what was going to happen. I… I felt bad.”

Viktor let out a huff. “Why would you feel bad?”

“I made you do that alone. You had to let him touch you, you had to interact with humans and I know you’re not fond of us.”

Viktor pursed his lips, brow raised as he crossed his arms. “I would not have agreed to do it for you if I did not know what was going to happen.”

“I _know_ that. But still.”

“Still?”

The silence screamed at Yuuri as they stared each other down.

“I was jealous! Okay?! Is that what you want me to say? Because that’s the truth of the matter!” Yuuri threw his hands up in the air, uncaring how they caught on a cobweb.

Viktor tapped a finger on his lip, contemplating. “You know, other than the usual ignorance that humans have towards dragons and fey, you’re actually a good human. I enjoy your company, Yuuri. You’re surprising. Not only with your actions, but the fact you’ve made me grown to like you.”

Yuuri gaped. “Y-you like me?”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“I mean… What do you mean by like?”

Viktor’s eyes were warm again as he reached out, cupping Yuuri’s face in his hand. “I don’t think this is the place for a conversation like this. We need to get going.”

“What?”

“We need to leave now. The town is riled up by the way we’ve exposed Yakumo’s family.” Viktor moves his hand from Yuuri’s face after a moment of hesitation, turning back to the door. “Let’s get up the road and head towards the coast.”

 

* * *

 

They’d been walking for some time, the sounds of the sleeping earth crunching under their boots and Yuuri wondered what was happening. Early on, Viktor had reached for his hand and held fast, the two connected at fingers and palms. When the sound of a person broke the natural silence, Yuuri startled. They both paused, watching as up the road, what looked to be a peddler came meandering down the dirt path. When the man leading his horse laden with bags spotted them, he waved, calling out.

“Hello there! A late night to be traveling?” The man’s large-brimmed hat kept his face in shadow, but his voice was jovial.

“We’re just hoping to reach our destination in the morning is all,” Viktor said smoothly.

The peddler nodded. “Of course. The two of your look like you could be on your way to your honeymoon! I have something for a couple like you! One moment…”

“Oh we don’t need--” Yuuri was cut off by the man waving him off.

“Nonsense. I have a lovely pair of gold bracelets that would look great on you both.” He dug in his bag a moment as Yuuri looked to Viktor questioningly. The dragon only shrugged, wary yet curious.

“Here they are. Now, show me your wrists.”

Reluctantly, they both held out their wrists and before they could react, the man locked shackles on Viktor before dealing a blow to Yuuri’s head and doing the same as he recoiled on the ground. The sound of Viktor moaning on the ground made Yuuri gasp, nearly forgetting the splitting pain in his head. In the action of getting the heavy shackles on the two of them, the man’s hat fell to the ground, showing Inquisitor Feltsman grinning in savage pride.

“You! How did you…”

“You will keep quiet, you child of Satan!” He gave a kick to Yuuri’s stomach, breathing deep. He turned to do the same to Viktor, who cried out in pain louder than Yuuri had ever heard him speak since they’d first met. “The two of you are evil, you’ve sold your souls to the devil.”

Yuuri reached over to help Viktor, but was shoved back. “Can’t I help him stand? He’s hurting!”

“Of course he’s hurting, you little fool. These are iron shackles. Iron hurts the fey. I wager his flesh feels as though he’s being cooked.”

Iron.

Looking closer, Yuuri could see the skin under the shackles was an irritated red, like he’d been burned with a pot from the fire. He winced and looked back to the shamed priest. “What are you going to do with us?”

“The two of you will come back to Petersburg with me and tell the city that it was your wicked tricks that made me look bad. You will prove my innocence and admit that you’ve sold your souls to evil. Get up, both of you.”

Yuuri struggled to stand, out of breath from the kick to his stomach before and attempted to help a disoriented Viktor. After a few failed attempts and much stumbling, Viktor stood, leaning heavily on Yuuri as they both looked to Feltsman. The man stood like a proud child admiring his handiwork and the sight alone made Yuuri furious. He eyed the key around the priest’s neck and lunged forward, reaching out to tug it from the short man’s neck. The two scuffled on the ground, both taking blows before Yuuri was shoved face down into the dirt. Feltsman stood and threw the key as far as he could, sailing it into the trees and losing it to the shrubbery.

“You little fool. Get up.”

“What difference does it make if you’re going to kill us both? Why would we go with you?”

Feltsman laughed, the sound somewhat high pitched and desperate. “If you come with me and admit your sins, you can both die by fire quickly. If you choose to remain silent, then I’ll cut the both of your with blades slowly. Take a few days until you’ve gone insane with pain.”

“Why do you care about them believing you?”

The man didn’t answer, but the desperate look in his eyes made Yuuri realize…

Feltsman sold his soul to Mila to escape the Petersburg mob.

“The witch.”

“Yes,” he sneered, grabbing Viktor’s chains, then Yuuri’s. “The witch saved me for a price. And when we go back, you will trade places with me and I will have my soul back.”

Their march led them to the hill where Yuuri was abandoned days before. The stake stood alone in the ground until Feltsman tugged Viktor to it and tried to shackle him to the post. When the man loosened the manacles to tighten him to the stake, Viktor kicked out, the sickening sound of his foot connecting with the older man’s nose and Yuuri tackled the man to the ground, robbing him of the breath in his lungs. Viktor fell to the ground, shackles in hand before he wrapped them around the priest’s throat and tugged.

Yuuri realized quickly that Viktor was choking him and stared, shocked. The man struggled for only a moment, hands grabbing at Viktor’s clothes before he fell limply and dug his fingers into the hard packed earth.

“Viktor, enough!”

He couldn’t see his face, but he could see that Viktor was not stopping, arms pulling the chains taught.

“Viktor! Enough!”

“But this is what you wanted, Yuuri. Revenge on those who ruined your life.”

Yuuri bit back a sob and nodded. “It was.”

Viktor stopped. It didn’t matter, Feltsman was dead.

He grabbed Yuuri by the shoulders, shaking him, staring at him hard as Yuuri tried to stop sobs that kept coming. Realizing his actions were not helping, Viktor pulled back, taking a few steps from the body of Feltsman before sitting with the least amount of grace Yuuri ever saw him exhibit in the dirt.

Viktor sat, shoulders slumped and hair tangled beyond hope, looking down at his wrists, still encircled with the damning iron. Yuuri dropped to his knees in front of the dragon, worried at the sudden change in demeanor. “Viktor? We need to go find the key Feltsman threw.”

Viktor looked up, his face a mix of frustration and lack of hope. “It doesn’t matter.”

Yuuri tried to get him up but failed. Throwing his own shackled hands in the air, Yuuri stalked off to the treeline where he thought he saw the key land. On his knees, he looked for anything metal and resembling the key but he came up empty handed and filthy. When he came back to the hill, he saw Viktor where he left him, sitting and looking utterly defeated. Feeling anger flush through him, he stalked up to the dragon.

“Why are you just sitting here?! Do something! We have to find the key!”

“It won’t matter. I’ll be dead by morning.”

“Why?”

The look Viktor gave him felt like his feet had been taken from under him.

“If I can’t change back into a dragon by morning, then I die.”

Their eyes locked and Yuuri had to fight back the urge to hyperventilate. The thought of Viktor dying, especially because of his own stupid, stupid idea of revenge.

“I’ll be back, Viktor. I’m coming back for you.”

Viktor didn’t say anything as Yuuri backed away from him. He didn’t say anything as he turned and began to run away. Yuuri didn’t dare look back. He needed help and he could only think of one family who would.

 

He burst into the workshop, knowing despite the hour, somewhere between what the church called a witching hour and when the laborers started their day, the heat-heavy workshop of the Nishigori’s would be roaring with a fire and perhaps the presence of Takeshi Nishigori himself. He didn’t see anyone but indeed the fire was going and the presence of heat sent a pins and needles feeling along his skin in the change of temperature. He dashed around, looking for something, any kind of tool that would get the shackles off himself and Viktor.

“Yuuri?!”

Whipping around, Yuuri saw Yuuko standing in the doorway, looking at him with eyes wide as dinner plates and a firing poker in her hands. “Yuuko! I need help! Now!”

It must have been the desperation in his voice, the harried look on his face, but she didn’t question how he was alive or where he’d been. She only asked him what he needed and stepped into the stop to lend a hand.

“Help me get these off.”

Immediately, Yuuko went for a large pair metal shears and, after warning Yuuri not to move, clipped the cuffs off his wrists, one at a time. When they fell away, he barely took a moment to rub his chafed wrists before opening his hands in askance.

“I need to borrow those. I have to go. I’ll be back. Please.”

Yuuko frowned but handed over the tool. “You owe me an explanation. Not just for this, Yuuri.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Running out, he didn’t care if anyone in town saw him in the vague light that was beginning to take over the sky. The light was more a muted grey than a velvet, dusky blue and it only made him push himself further. With his lungs burning, Yuuri launched himself at the still sitting form of Viktor, barking for him to hold still.

Startled, the dragon obeyed, holding out his arms as Yuuri stood on his knees and shakily clipped one, then the other from his wrists. Immediately, Viktor stood and in the blink of an eye, transformed as light broke on the horizon. Cloth remnants fluttered to the ground as Viktor’s true dragon form screeched and took flight. Without a backward look, the dragon took to the sky and his large wings carried him to the distance.

Viktor had left him.

Fingering what was left of a sleeve, Yuuri looked around him, at the debris of clothing, the unmoving and cold body of the Inquisitor, and the tool in front of him. He was left with the results of his revenge. Alone.

Standing was difficult, his knees stiff and his body aching. But he bent down to pick up the shears and let his back pop, looking around to see if anyone had followed him. There was not a soul but his own. What was left of it.

He began walking back towards Hasetsu and just before he came to the town’s edge, Yuuko was standing there with a large blanket in her arms. Without a word, he came to her, letting her wrap him in the blanket and lead him back to the Nishigori forge and home. When they entered the workshop, Takeshi was there and he let the older man take the shears from him and accepted the steaming cup of tea they offered.

They kept to the workshop in order to not wake their triplets. Yuuko fed him warm bread and eggs from her chickens. Yuuri had never been more grateful that they knew him well enough not to push him. Eventually, Takeshi went to work across the room, the hit of his hammer ringing.

“There is a dragon,” he started. “But he didn’t eat me. He ignored me until I taunted him and made him come to me.”

He gave Yuuko a short version of what happened and the first thing she could say was,

“Oh Yuuri. You love him.”

He couldn’t even deny it. And it hurt because despite his feelings, he knew Viktor had left.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri hid in the blacksmith’s workshop most of the day. He left around dinner to take a walk, assuring Yuuko that he’d be careful. He knew that the town was feeling raw, having realizing what they did to Yuuri was wrong when Emi had admitting the plan to accuse him so Yakumo could have Yutopia. The town simultaneously mourned his supposed death as well as had an anger towards the family they demanded leave. Yuuko said they were giving Yakumo’s family two days to leave.

Yuuri’s feet took him back to the pond, the area that changed his life over and over again. The ice hadn’t thickened since the wee hours of the morning, still looking like a fragile and easily crackable layer over the pond water. The trees were as silent as the dead. The hill was empty, devoid of stake, of bodies, of iron shackles. Yuuri paused.

“If you’re looking for that foul, tiny man, I ate him.”

Whirling, Yuuri saw Viktor step out of the treeline, eyes sharply focused on him. He stood still, waiting for something to happen. For Viktor to come closer, to yell at him, to eat him still yet. Yuuri attempted to keep his pulse and his breathing regular, hoping not to show his feelings at seeing the silver-haired dragon standing in front of him, new clothes and all.

“Viktor…” His voice broke slightly.

The man was on him in a moment, barely a hand’s width between them as they continued to stare at one another.

“You took your time coming out here,” Viktor remarked, a hint of his usual irritation leaking through his voice, though he held a small smirk. “Only dragons three times my age have had me waiting.”

Yuuri furrowed his brow, ready to tell him off for leaving him behind, but as though he knows exactly what he is going to say, Viktor stops him.

“I was busy trying not to die, you know. I had to fly to Mila’s and ask her to heal me.” He held up his wrists which were in much better condition than the last time Yuuri had seen them. There were only faint pink marks from the rubbing and burning. “I always planned on coming back for you.”

Yuuri gripped Viktor’s sleeve, fingers clenching tight.

“You can come with me, if you’d like.”

“Can I?”

“Stay by my side, Yuuri. Don’t leave me?”

Yuuri closed his eyes, breathing deep. He could feel those blue eyes boring into him but he wanted to be sure.

He opened his eyes to see a genuine smile on Viktor’s face and took the dragon’s hand in his, laying it on his cheek and nuzzling into it.

“I’m ready to go.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Say hello on my tumblr velvetcovered-brick!
> 
> Visit Silent Songs at their tumblr and tell them you love their art!
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


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